The Plane Shift
by Storm Notorious
Summary: Aramil, a fledgling binder, falls through a portal in an encounter gone wrong and ends up in the world of Hogwarts, where old enemies and new friends await. First story in the Chronicles of Aramil.
1. A Very Bad Encounter

**And we are back! Just a few houserules and things to get out of the way:**

 **#1: With the exception of Dragon Magazine (and possibly Dungeon if I feel like using that vestige), I'm using only first-party books.**

 **#3: Aramil's not going gestalt, that was overpowered and stupid. What was I thinking?**

 **#4: Aramil's a Binder.**

 **#4: Aramil's a Leanan Sidhe. What is it? I have a link posted on my profile. Im giving him a +1 LA, to be fair.**

 **#5: In this campaign its not going to be that overpowered, so Aramil's going to be using the Green Lady vestige at the start. He's going into Knight of the Sacred Seal, with probably TGL as his favoured vestige. Or Zceryll. Or Ronove to screw with everyone.**

 **And without further ado, let's get this show on the road...**

* * *

Ah, Sigil. He had always liked this place. Abyssal palaces stood proudly next to celestial temples, modrons traded good with death slaads at the marketplace, and a yugoloth was selling souls in a shady alleyway. One of the few places a Sidhe could relax without being lynched. No one even so much as raised an eyebrow at the person who looked like a unusually beautiful plague victim. If he wasn't in a rush, he would've stayed a while. Unfortunately...

Aramil took a quick look behind. On the roof, two buildings down the street. It was still there, watching with a detached look. _Dammit._

For the past three weeks, that thing had been following him. It started after he had, ahem, _liberated_ a few items from a temple of Kord, so he thought it might have been some divine avenger. But as it had made it into the very anti-divine city, it was clearly not.

It looked like an ordinary human commoner, dressed in peasant clothing and a detached expression. But after it had followed him through several portals he had destroyed after him through the Astral Plane, Celestia, Pandemonium, the Abyss, and several hundred miles on the Infinite Staircase and massacred the mercenaries he sent after it...Aramil wasn't sure what to think now.

As he passed under a pair of Pit Fiends talking in Infernal his link severed, and he could feel Leraje leaving his body.

 _Dammit. That was my last elven arrow. Okay, what to do now..._ Aramil ducked down side street and spotted a run-down temple of Wee Jas. Or was it supposed to look like that? That was the problem with death gods, you could never tell if their temples were constructed over a thousand years ago or last spring. Whatever.

He didn't have any chalk on him, so...he took an arrow and stabbed his palm, wincing at the 3 points of damage.

"This is probably why they wanted to burn me at the stake..." He started painting the seal on the ground. He hated this part. The last couple of times, the thing had nearly caught up to him. He didn't want to know what would happen when it succeeded.

"And finish that last little circle thing and...Done." He put his hand on the seal and took a deep breath. "How did this go again..."

 _"I call upon you, the Green Lady, servant of Wee Jas. Render unto me your beauty and mastery of magic, for I stand before your seal and possess your talisman."_ He never got why he had to say that part. Half of them didn't even have special items required. The thought vanished as she was summoned.

First a pair of bright green orbs appeared at eye level. Then a mane of red hair shimmered into existence. The rest of the Green Lady manifested before him, giving him that serene smile she always did.

"Aramil." She dipped her head in greeting. "You haven't changed a bit. How long has it been, two years?"

"Um, two days, actually." He said, correcting her. "But you look more beautiful every time we met."

She laughed, a sound that rent a chill down his spine. _Vestiges._ "How nice of you to lie on my behalf. Very well, shall we get this over with now?"

Aramil closed his eyes, as did the vestige. This was the invisible game of tug-o-war, to see if he fell under her influence. If he lost, he would have to acct like a spoiled noble, and she would experience more of reality. If she lost, she wouldn't be able to potentially get Aramil killed by influencing him. And he was only first level, so that penalty would really hurt.

He opened his eyes with a smile. "I win."

The Green Lady's smile soured. "Is it too much to ask for you to fail it once in a while? These brief moments of life are the only things I have to cling onto when I'm in the void."

"Quit whining. I have something coming after me which I've never seen or heard before in my life. I'll need all the help I can get, and I can't afford to be all snobby."

"Hmph. Well, this should be interesting." She vanished with a smirk on her face. A small fraction of her was being released from nothingness and...

Binding himself to a vestige was something that never wore off. A fraction of a incomprehensible alien being was tying itself to his very fragile soul. The surge of power was almost intoxicating. He had no idea why there weren't more binders in the world. _The numerous witch-hunts at first level are probably a huge turn off, though._

His smile slowly faded as he considered the Green Lady's last words. _'Well, this should be interesting.'_ That binding did take a while...and it was unusually quiet for the normally bustling city.

With a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, Aramil slowly turned around.

Everything was dead. The two Pit Fiends had their throats cut, the yugoloth was a few streaks of blood on the walls, the modron was a pile of rusty gears, and the death slaad..well, he assumed it was the death slaad from the...unidentifiable thing's position.

And facing him was that damn human commoner look-alike. He tilted his head to the side, as if he was studying him.

"Got you." Even his voice was ordinary. Aramil expected a blast of trumpets, or something that sounded as if it had crawled out of the deepest layers of the Abyss. Instead, he got a human with a Suel accent. That was disappointing.

The DHC (Damn Human Commoner) walked closer. Aramil didn't bother trying to fight. The DHC slaughtered several high CR outsiders in the space of a few rounds, Aramil didn't have a chance in his state.

"Hey, can you hurry up and get this over with? I know a few slaadi that throw really good parties over in Limbo." He tossed aside his arrow and his longbow. "Here, I'll even give you a free shot."

The DHC had a very unpleasant smile. "What makes you think Fey go to the afterlife, or anywhere when they die? Have you ever seen one on Aborea, or Pandemonium, or Ysgard?"

"Yes."

The DHC shook its head. "You should've bound Naberius." It took a few steps forward, standing a few inches away. He didn't even get an attack of opportunity against it. "And time for you to go...wherever. _Reality Maelstrom._ " A tear in space appeared in the air above him, hungrily swallowing everything in reach.

Aramil could feel the portal tugging at him. He rolled a Reflex save.

Natural 1.

 _Dammit._ Aramil was sucked upwards, hitting the edge of a roof and bouncing off painfully. As he passed into the portal, the DHC gave him a wave and a smile.

Aramil gave him a very rude gesture.

* * *

 **And here's the first chapter. That took way longer than I expected. Should have the next chapter up in a week or so, and his character sheet up in a bit. Until next time.**


	2. Okay, not dead

Aramil had been awake for about...he couldn't tell. Could've been a minute, could've been a few hours. But the fact that the Green Lady was still bound to him meant it had been less than a day.

Though he had his eyes closed, he could tell that it was sometime during the day, probably around noon judging from the location of the brightness. There was a light breeze, and he could feel grass tickling his cheek. He couldn't smell anything, so he was probably out in the wild, in a big open space. Aramil sat up and opened his eyes.

Yup, he was right. He was in a grassy field, with blades that reached to his shoulders sitting down. No trees or any other things except for the occasional bird here and there. No signs of civilization anywhere. That could be a problem. Aramil had got rid of all his non-essentials to be able to cover the most distance. All he had were his journals, his morningstar, silver fob watch, and his leather armor. And his quiver, but he had thrown away his longbow, so it was useless.

"I guess the best option is to get to civilization before I die of starvation." He slung his backpack (which had fallen a few feet away) and started walking in a randomly chosen direction.

* * *

After about three hours alternating between running, resting, and whacking birds with a morningstar for tiny bits of experience (it may be a very un-fey thing to do, but he had nearly doubled his XP total!) a village came into view.

"Finally." He walked up to a mountain that overlooked the village, settling on a bench that was up there. He sat down and surveyed the territory.

It was a decent sized village. All the buildings were wooden, some were in need of repairs, and it seemed like the classical commoner village. He could probably go through this place in an afternoon with Amon.

Aramil noticed the two villagers who had just walked out what looked like an both had robes on. One nodded to the other, and they both disappeared.

Aramil's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, they have at least two 9th level wizards. Or maybe its an adventuring party passing through."

It was then he noticed that everyone moving about were wearing robes, and almost everyone had wands in their hands.

 _Okay, thats new._ Aramil had seen plane touched towns, sorcerer towns, and yes, even a town compromised of only Venerable Dragonwrought Kobold paladins. But not wizards. Isolation and crippling paranoia seemed to go hand in hand with the term 'wizard'.

 _Well, at least I won't have to hide. Wizards won't try and burn me at the stake._ Well at leas there was one upside, even if he couldn't ransack the entire town and make off with the loot. He'd be back in Sigil before dinner.

Aramil walked down to the base of the mountain. Sneaking in from off the path would have him hit by a dozen contingencies, if the wizards were half as paranoid as they should be. Merchants needed a way to get in, so...he hesitantly took a step forward onto the dirt path. If he was right, he'd pass through unscathed. If he was wrong...he'd probably be bombarded from space with iron golems.

Nothing happened. He was fine, except for a slight tingling sensation in his teeth. _Most likely just a failed enchantment spell._

Or he could be dying, but there was no use worrying about that. He could probably find a slaad lord that liked him on Limbo. _And off I go._

* * *

After about five minutes, he strolled into the main part of town and came across the first wizard.

He was holding some sort of bundle of paper, reading it as he strolled along the path. Not looking where he was going, Aramil crashed into the wizard.

"Hey, watch where you're go-" The wizard seemed to make a strangled choking noise when he Aramil. "Wha-what the hell are you?"

He glared at the wizard. "First, look where you're going. Second,I'm a fey. Havent you ever seen a Leanan Sidhe. The wizard frowned. "A what?"

"A...Leanan Sidhe. Haven't you ever seen one before?" A disturbing thought struck him. "Wait, where am I? Go outwards from the name of the village."

"Umm...Hogsmeade, Scotland, Britain, Europe, Earth."

Aramil had never heard those plces in his life, and he had lived in the World Serpent Inn for the better part of two centuries. Which means...

"Must be an alternate plane."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." Aramil made a Diplomacy check _._ "Listen, I need a place to stay where my...unusual beauty won't draw attention. Got any recommendations?"

The wizard suddenly had a faint smile on his face. "Well I'd let you stay at my place, but I have guests over. So your best bet would be the Hog's Head. It's an inn, just over there, see?"

There was a tall, ramshackle building that looked like it would fall over if an imp sneezed. "Ah. That looks...lovely."

"Heh. It's not the best of places, but if you pay for your stuff, Aberforth doesn't talk. Got any galleons?"

"Umm..."

"Here, take some." The wizard passed him a few gold pieces. "That should shut his mouth for a while."

Aramil gave his most charming smile. "Thanks, I'll pay you back as soon as possible." _Ha ha, not a chance._

The wizard smiled. "No problem, uh...what's your name again?" Aramil had walked away, already forgetting about the wizard.

* * *

"Yup, this is absolutely safe." The Hog's Head was one of those places his mother (until he found out she wasn't her mother) had always warned him against entering. The windows were so dirty that he couldn't see the inside. Well the ones that weren't boarded up, or broken.

Aramil took a deep breath. "Here it goes." He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The inn was better then what he expected. Yeah, it had some parts that were covered in spiderwebs, and some suspicious stains, but everything seemed fine.

The bearded bartender glanced up at the creaking of the door, then did a double take when he saw Aramil. Thankfully, there were no patrons.

Aramil walked up to the bar and sat down. "Got anything good?"

The man eyed him suspiciously. "Depends. You seventeen?"

"I'm over forty times that, and have been having a very bad day. Gimme something."

He snorted. "Normally I'd tell you to get lost, but the fact that you probably aren't human makes me actually believe you." He turned around, grabbing a dusty glass and a bottle labelled _Firewhiskey. That sounds amazing._ "You can pour it yourself."

Aramil ignored the glass and downed a mouthful straight from the bottle. It burned going down his throat, but in a good way.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Must've been quite a day."

He wiped his mouth on his arm. "Yup. First, I was running from a-you're looking at me funny."

The bartender looked at him like he had just told him he was retraining to monk. "Uh...i just saw some sort of green wave ripple down your body."

Aramil put down one of the gold coins on the counter. "No you didn't."

Aberforth (this was probably the guy the wizard was talking about) snatched up the coin. "Trick of the light. So, you were saying?"

He took another large sip. "Yeah, sho there was this...this thing followin' me." He hiccuped. "And so it puts its hand on me, and next thing I know, lyin' down in a field. So I walk over to mead's hog, then go over to here."

"It's Hogsmeade."

"What-hic-ever. So, anyway, I need a place to stay. And I'm not actually here." Aramil dumped the rest of the coins on the counter. "Understand?"

Aberforth swept the coins into his hand. "Up the stairs, first room on your right that has a door."

"Thanks." Aramil got off the stool and promptly tripped over his own feet.

"Um...need any help?"

He waved him off. "No, I'm fine."

Aramil took a few steps and tripped again.

"Okay, maybe I do need some help after all."

* * *

 **And that's the second chapter. Read, review, and share with your friends.**


	3. Exposition & Stuff

**Oh yeah, forgot to mention the setting. Its Greyhawk, though a few Faerunian and eberron things might show up, along with the World Serpent Inn. Enjoy!**

* * *

Aramil woke up with a splitting headache, in an unfamiliar room. Which was how he woke up most days, but he was usually with some artist.

As he got up and looked around, his memory returned to him. _Ah, I finished an entire bottle of whiskey and fell over thin air several times. At least I didn't alter my form in front of him. That would suck._

"Wait, what do I look like now?" Spotting a dusty, cracked mirror on the wall, he managed to get up and walked over.

He was currently a Lizardfolk. A female one. Poison Dusk Lizardfolk, possibly? Whatever. Aramil concentrated, his reptilian features flowing smoothly into his normal form. Bored with his current look, he added a bit of grass-green to his usual dark hair.

It was then he noticed he wasn't bound to the Green Lady anymore.

"Good, that sign was way too obvious. Okay, who to bind...I need someone who's easily explainable, influence not disastrous...Ah right. Naberius, the Grinning Hound."

Now there was a slight problem. He didn't have any chalk, he was out of Firewhiskey, and his quiver was ashes in the hearth.

 _Wait, ashes._

He dipped a finger in the dust and began to draw the seal. "I can barely think through this headache. Okay... _I call upon Naberius, the Grinning Hound..."_

* * *

Aramil trudged down the stairs, almost tripping on the terrible stairs and slitting his throat on a rusty nail. He barely passed the Reflex save. _Holy Io, that was close. I could've died in some backwards little village. A village of wizards, but it was in the middle of nowhere._ On the plus side, his headache seemed to be going away.

Thankfully, he made it down the stairs without any more life-threatening scenarios, arriving in the main room. "Hey asshole, fix your stairs. I almost died walking down them. Do you get a lot of repeat customers?"

Aberforth, who seemed to be perpetually washing glasses, didn't even blink. "And you're up. It's already noon. I was going to pour a bucket of water on you. Or something else."

"How nice of you." Aramil joined him at the bar. "But to be fair, I've only slept about 6 hours in the past week. I deserve that nap."

"Hmph. What's with the voice? Sound like you ate gravel for breakfast."

Aramil found another two coins (they were silver) in his pocket and placed one on the counter. "No idea what you're talking about."

Aberforth picked up the coin. "Very well. Anyway, I don't serve breakfast here, so you'll have to go to the Three Broomsticks if you want something more nourishing than another bottle of Firewhiskey."

"I'm assuming its the decent looking inn?"

He gave Aramil a dirty look. "Very funny. Seeing as you walked straight out of the Middle Ages, you're going to attract a lot of stares. And it won't be long before someone recognizes you aren't human and the Ministry comes calling."

The Ministry. "I'm assuming that's not the name of a group of evil accountant wizards."

He frowned. "Wait, you don't know what the Ministry is?" Aberforth was viewing him with a considerable amount of suspicion now. "Every country on earth has one. Where are you from?"

 _And the cat's out of the bag._ Aramil considered giving him the last coin, but the multiclass innkeeper/bartender was probably past minor bribery by now. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Aberforth took a sip of some sweet-smelling liquid from a nearby glass.

"Well...I'm actually from an alternate plane of existence. I sorta mentioned how I got here yesterday."

"Yeah,"He shrugged, "But you were slightly tipsy, so I believed you as much as Mundungus Fletcher when he says the cauldrons 'fell off the back of a broom'."

An eyebrow went up. "Mundungus who?"

Aberforth waved a dismissive hand. "Sleazy rat who tries to unload things one me. Tried to sell me unicorn blood once, but it doesn't matter. So, what's this world of yours called?"

"Greyhawk. Thoough there are other planes too. There's the Ever-Changing Chaos of Limbo, Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus, Infinite Layers of the Abyss, Elemental Planes of Earth, Fire, Water and Air, the Concordent Domain of the Outlands-"

"That's enough." He took another mouthful of the mysterious liquid. "So, other planes. My brother wrote a fifty page essay on that possibility, but a goat ate it. 'A goat' being me, and 'ate it' meaning 'I burnt it'."

Aramil bit back a smile. "Why?"

Aberforth dumped the rest of the liquid into a basin. "He annoyed me." He picked up a wand, and upon waving it, the liquid vanished.

 _Thats new._ "Hold up. What spell was that? Because I'm pretty sure you cant put a Teleport on a wand."

He squinted at Aramil. "You're joking, right? Its a simple Vanishing Charm."

"Pixie dust."

"What?"

Aramil got off the stool. Why, he wasn't sure, but he always felt like standing when explaining the rules. "Because Charm spells can only make another creature friendlier towards you. And there's no fourth-level spells that can erase something from existence, so your wand is completely illegal, because you can't put fifth-level spells or higher on wands!" He finished triumphantly. _And it'll vanish from reality in 1...2...3!_

Nothing happened, except for an heavy, uncomfortable silence. _Okay, something's up._

"...Spell levels?"

"Okay, I'm definitely in the Far Realm." Aramil could feel a story-mandated time-skip coming on, so he decided to make the best of it. "So, how exactly does your magic work...?"

* * *

"...And you can use someone else's wand you stole, but you get better results if you took it from them by disarming them. And those are pretty much the basics."

"I am _so_ out of my league here. You can know every spell ever and cast them all day, and you have at-will teleportation." Aramil was starting to feel like he was in a campaign with someone who had a fetish for wizards.

"But we need wands, so your...Jen Wu's and Binders are safe." Aramil had given him a quick rundown of the basic rules. There was some doubt at first, but then he had used Naberius's _Command_ ability to make Aberforth run out of the inn, and he was believed.

"Wu Jens, and Binders aren't really spellcasters," He corrected, "But I guess so. Even though, going Knight of the Sacred Seal seems like a bad idea now. Maybe Anima Mage, if I can find a way to shuffle my feats around for early entry...Sorry, I tend to ramble."

Aberforth ducked into a back room. "So, you still hungry?" the man called out.

"Huh. Almost forgot." Aramil's stomach growled, as if reminding him it still existed. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, you can't go in like that. Here." He walked back into the room, dumping a pile of robes into Aramil's arms. "People leave a lot of things behind in an inn. You should be able to find one without too much blood on it."

"Umm, thanks. I guess."

"Don't mention it." Aberforth waved his wand again and all the abandoned cups at the tables flew to the sink. "I've got some stuff to buy, so you've got ten minutes to change, and then I'm kicking you out."

"Got it." Aramil was halfway up the stairs with the robes before a thought struck him and he headed back down.

Aberforth was opening up a bag of what appeared to be animal feed. Which was strange, because he hadn't seen any animals around here. Maybe he had goats or something behind the inn?

He looked over at Aramil as he was struggling with the bag. "Forget something?"

"Why.." Aramil tried to find the right words. "You have magic. Why are you always washing the glasses? You could wav your wand and they'd be done in an instant. Why use your hands when you can use magic?"

"True, I could be doing that. But magic isn't always the best course of action." His eyes slid over to a portrait on the wal of a girl with a passing resemblance.

Aramil frowned and headed upstairs. _Weirdo._

* * *

 **And that brings us to the third chapter, in as many weeks. The update rate will probably change soon, due to finals and all that jazz. Anyway, read, review, and share this with your friends.**


	4. Of Mirrors and Exposition

After a few minutes and a natural 20 on a Spot check, Aramil had thrown on a set of silver robes that didn't have too many holes in them. Glancing over at the mirror, he found that he actually looked pretty good in them. But then again, he always looked good. Still, put him in some sort of magical academy and nobody would be able to tell the difference between him and one of the students. Or teachers.

He started talking to himself in the mirror. "You know what, I think I'm gonna head for Anima Mage." When you lived as long as he did, with people he met as children withering away into old age..you liked to talk to faces you could keep around. "Make take a bit of retraining, and one or two levels in Spellsinger or sorcerer or something, but I'll need some magic goodness to survive in...What's this place called again? Britta?" Aramil wasn't expecting his reflection to answer him, but it did, in a voice that seemed like it was just waking up.

"It's called Great Britain, dear. And your hair could really use a trim. The robes are quite lovely though, if a bit old." Okay, that was new. Aramil had never encountered something like this. The fact that it had bothered to mention his hair could mean that it was an enchanted mirror instead of his reflection, which _could_ mean...

Aramil did his best to keep an expression of nonchalance. Surprise was weakness in his experience. A carefree posture and a raised eyebrow once gave him the opportunity to destroy an archdevil's aspect within one round of its summoning. And the rest of the city, but you couldn't make an omlette without slaughtering a few dozen chickens. _._ "A sapient mirror that criticizes people's fashion sense and hair which is perfectly fine, _thank you very much._ And I thought I've seen everything."

His reflection shrugged, even though he wasn't moving an inch. "So did I, until what appeared to be a human stumbled into my room and turned into a giant lizard. The ministry would be very interested in an unregistered species." Great, sleazy mirrors. He should be fine though.

Just as a precaution, he walked over to the bedstand and examined the bottle of Firewhiskey. There was still a little bit left. So he uncorked the bottle and splashed it into the fireplace, a healthy fire flaring up. "Are you blackmailing me?" _I swear, if he says 'it'..._

There was a large, un-Aramil smirk on his face. "Blackmail is such an ugl-"

 _Goddamit, he said it._ Aramil walked across the room and smashed the mirror with the bottle. Interestingly enough, the bottle was still intact. _Hmm, usually they make it pretty flimsy so barflies can smash them on tables and make them into weapons, despite the obvious danger. Whatever._ Aramil then picked up the frame, and tossed it in the fire. For all he knew, it could regenerate its glass. He wasn't having that happening.

* * *

As the copper frame of the mirror was slowly turning to liquid, he felt something like the slight burning sensation of the firewhiskey surging through his veins, coming to a stop at his heart.

He had just leveled up.

"Cool, that little mirror was worth a bundle of XP. I should go around smashing them more often." Aramil whipped out his character sheet from nowhere, along with the dark red quill that always came with it and started updating it.

Now, he had a decision to make. He could either pick up his first spellcasting level that could get him a decent power boost, or he could pick up his second level of Binder and hide his vestiges without coughing up gold to every 'wizard' he came across. Two first level spells could help him out immensely (Power Word Pain and Charm Person for starters), but so could the Suppress Sign ability.

Aramil sat down on the bed. If he had a coin left he could leave it up to that to decide, but they had all been guzzled away by a dragon in human form. He considered the list of options.

Warlock was out of the question, as warlocks technically didn't have spell levels. Which was okay, because most of the best features were from the class itself. Aramil had seen a kobold warlock almost ascend to divinity with Imbue Item and a stockpile of souls, but died because they ruled that Strongheart Vest didn't work, and he took 193839200382 points of Constitution damage.

Wizard...Aramil had met a rather uncouth necromancer a while ago. Strangely enough, he was quite dead now. Also, being MAD (Multiple Ability-Dependant) was bad.

Wu Jen had very little splatbook support. Next.

Sorcerer and Spellsinger were options. He scratched them down in the notes section.

Bard, was out of the question, as was Spellthief, Duskblade, Hexblade, and all the other non-primary spellcasters.

And then there was Shadowcaster. It, like the Warlock, had a lack of prestige classes, due to the spellcasting requirements. And he'd have to take three levels of it to qualify for Anima Mage, or he could take Heighten Spell + Versatile Spellcaster to enter with one. Shadowcasters did cast spells, after all. But those first few levels were rough...

A bolt of inspiration struck him, and he quickly scribbled in a level of Sorcerer. The character sheet vanished, and in its place was a sheet of paper titled _'Spells Known'._

"Now I remember why I became a binder. All those spells that can't be changed without time and money. Let's see here..."

For a lack of knowledge of better options, he picked up _Detect Magic, Read Magic,_ _Prestidigitation,_ and _Message_ as cantrips. For his 1st level spells, he chose _Summon Monster I_ and _Power Word Pain._ The paper went the same way as his character sheet. Now what was he forgetting?

Ah right, the familiar. "Fantastic. I can finally talk to someone who isn't confused every time I bring up the _Locate City_ bomb. Not that I'm planning anything like that."

"If I had 24 hours and 100 gp..." Well, so much for that plan. What else was there...

 _Wait, there's always that Draconic Ray thingy._ Once a day, he could fire off a ray that did 1d4 points of damage +1 point of damage per 2 sorcerer levels. The secondary effect and damage type depended on the draconic ancestor.

"Okay, let's see how this goes." Forgoing his chance to have a familiar, Aramil sort of did a mental turn to the left in his head and selected Draconic Ray. Aramil shivered, which could indicate that he had some silver or white dragon blood in his veins. Or it could mean absolutely nothing. He'd have to wait until he got into a fight. No point on wasting it.

Aramil opened up his pocket watch. He had taken up the better part of an hour talking to himself.

"This is the part of immortality I dislike. Sure, I get to have cool adventures, and blow up an entire plane of existence, but sooner or later I'm going to-dammit, talking to myself again." He flipped the watch shut, picked up his backpack, and kicked his leather armor underneath the bed and headed downstairs, picking up his morningstar by the door. _Why didn't I use that to smash the mirror?_

* * *

 **So first things first, sorry for not posting for a while. Finals, and studying, and drama with friends** **had a huge conspiracy plot to stop me from updating. Why? No idea. I'm guessing the other writers here are jealous. I should be able to update at the usual time next week, which for you guys will be a week and a couple of days.**

 **Oh, and whoever guesses Aramil's draconic ancestor type first gets...I don't know. Either something or nothing.**

 **See you around.**


	5. A Very Interesting Day

"Okay, so I tell him it was threatening me, and that I had no idea what it could do, since I've never seen one before, and that instinct took over and I immediately smashed it with a bottle, and then tossed it in a fire. Or I could just bluff my way past him. That seems easier then telling the truth. And more fun." Aramil walked down the last steps and into the bar, where Aberforth was putting on a jacket that had clearly seen better days.

"Aramil. You were up there for about forty minutes, what took you so long?" He lifted his beard out of the way and buttoned up the last two.

 _Bluff, bluff, bluff your way, gently down the stream..._ "I slipped on a robe and accidentally smashed your mirror with the Firewhiskey bottle. On accident." Bluff check rolling. With a +15 modifier, he got a result of...

29\. Aberforth shrugged. "Whatever. I've been meaning to replace it for a while, I guess I'll pick up a new one while I'm out. Melody should still have some in stock..." He grabbed his wand and waved it in a circle, untangling the knots in his beard.

 _Phew._ Aramil had no idea who Melody was, or why she had sentient mirrors (might have to pay her a visit later for XP), but he took his opportunity to get out of there. he less time he spent in the same place after a lie, the better, in his experience.

"Well I'd talk more, but I'm starving. So, see you later!" He hurried out the door before Aberforth could ask him any more questions about the mirror.

* * *

Aramil realized he was still holding his morningstar, so he hastily stowed it away in his backpack before someone noticed. He left it unlatched, in case he needed to bash in some brains.

As he was walking, he tallied up the resources he had available.

"One morningstar, one silver-tongued vestige currently bound, journals that could probably get me killed if they find out what I've done, one pocketwatch..wait, that's been broken for centuries. What time is it?" He looked at his shadow. It was almost non-existent, which meant it was around noon-ish.

"Okay, still got time to eat. Annnnnd Hide check." Aramil ducked into an alleyway to avoid a bearded wizard who looked sort of similar to Aberforth. He watched him walk along to the Hog's Head, staying out of sight until he was gone. He looked like a walking adventure hook, and the less involved in events Aramil was, the better.

 _That was close._ Aramil stepped out of the alleyway and walked around the corner, and promptly bumped into the wizard.

* * *

Aramil said several indescribably filthy words in Celestial that would've probably got him executed, which was quite an accomplishment, because the language didn't even _have_ a concept of swear words.

The old wizard arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Um, nothing. Got hit by a spell that messed up my voice and made me said gibberish. It wears off in a few hours. I'll be fine." Aramil moved to walk around him, but he somehow accidentally bumped into Old Wizard Dude again.

"Oh dear. I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Perhaps I could help you out with that hex?"

Aramil reevaluated him. He had a robe with stars on it, a very long beard, and glasses that concealed blue eyes that looked like they were _eyes of true seeing._ Pair that up with the fact that he was the headmaster of a wizarding school, and he probably could annihilate everything around in a hundred mile radius with a half-hearted cough and had more divine ranks then Boccob the Uncaring One.

"Um...I think I'm good. Thanks though." He tried stepping around him again, but he somehow bumped into Dumble-

He frowned. "Wait, Dumbledore? Like Aberforth Dumbledore?"

"Yes, he's my brother." Albus examined him. "Do you...know him somehow?"

"I'm staying at his inn." _Goddammit, I said I wasn't going to get involved in any wacky misadventures._

"You seem rather young to be staying at such an...uncouth place." Albus seemed to be gazing at him with something that almost resembled parently concern. _Don't kid yourself Aramil. You've never had that, and you never will._

"I can take care of myself.", he said frostily.

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm quite sure of that. But if you need any help, feel free to ask." He vanished into thin air. Aramil thought it was Apparation or whatever, but Aberforth said that it always produces a loud crack. _Probably Archmage-y things._

"I need to get my hand on one of those wands. I guess I can always save up money with hard work and buy one legitimately-" He almost got through the entire sentence without bursting into laughter.

"Okay, that was a good one." He wiped away his tears and kept on walking.

* * *

Aramil walked into the Three Broomsticks, the bell chiming faintly. He rolled a Spot check, a tradition he and his former party had to spot any potential ominous hooded strangers sitting in gloomy corners.

It was a friendly, well-lit place, with a loud, boisterous mood about the crowd. No ominous strangers, or busty barmaids, which was a bit of a disappointment. Though the woman who seemed like she was in charge didn't look that bad, and there were a few mean-looking people in a corner playing a card game of some sort. Somewhat promising.

He noticed several people giving him some odd glances, so he found a corner table and sat down, taking his backpack off his shoulder. He took out his journal and a quill with an inkwell and started writing.

 _4663 OC, around 12th of Fruitfall, High Summer._

 _I've escaped from whatver was chasing me. Well, not exactly escaped. It used the Reality Maelstrom spell on me, sending me to to a random plane. Why it didn't kill me, I have no idea...maybe it thought I'd end up dying in the Abyss or Pandemonium._

 _But Instead, I ended up-_

"Can I get you anything honey?" Aramil looked up to see who he presumed to be the owner standing at his table.

"I'm feeling sorta hungry, think its a side effect of the spell that someone put on me that made my voice sound like this. But I don't have any money on me." Aramil did his best naive orphan look.

He could see her heart melting like a snowball in the Nine Hells. "Oh, that's not a problem, on the house dear."

Aramil's eyes lit up. "Oh, really? Thanks miss.." Women around her age generally responded positively to being called 'miss', in his experience. She walked away with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. _Ah, humans. So much fun to play around with. They'll always be my favourite toys._ He dropped his fake expression and returned to his journal.

 _-on some bizarre plane that I'm 50% sure is part of the Far Realm. They have no concept of Hit Die, levels, ability scores, or even skill checks. It's like its a horribly mangled homebrew universe._

 _Well anyway, found some inkkeper named Aberforth, who seems okay. Slightly sleazy, but alright. Never trust anyone who seems perfect. I'm staying in one of his rooms. Think he's taking a liking to me._

 _My plan for now is to find a way back to Greyhawk or one of the safer planes, and return when I've gained some more levels to examine it more closely._

He left the journal open to dry and contemplated his next move. If Aberforth turned out to be treacherous he could ditch the leather armor, he wouldn't really need it for his Anima Mage plan.

Maybe he should contact Albus and see if he could help him out. He looked somewhat trustworthy... _Don't get attached, he'll die in fifty years or so._

Aramil felt a sudden need to get some fresh air. He picked up his belongings and got up to take a quick breather, only tinto bump into someone and spill their tankard all over their robes.

"Whoops. Sorry about the mead, or whatever dude. I have things to do." The man did not look happy.

"Watch where you're going, idiot! I paid fifty galleons for this handcrafted set of robes. Judging by your appearance you couldn't afford a single strand of this, you mudblood peasant."

Aramil didn't know what a mudblood was, but judging by the state of the people around him, it wasn't good. "I'm not in the mood to talk, so I'm gonna give you 10 seconds to get out of my way before I leave you broken and bleeding on the ground. Okay?"

The huge, hulking wizard and his cronies started laughing. "Ha! I could duel you in my sleep with one hand tied behind my back."

He sighed. "I don't have time for this. _Power Word Pain."_ The wizard immediately dropped to the ground, screaming in agony. His cronies, and everyone in the room, almost fell over trying to get away from him.

"Bloody hell, he just used the Cruciatus curse on Gregory!"

"The what curse?" By the look on everyone's faces, he had just murdered someone. And then he remembered what Aberforth had told him about the Unforgivable curses. Three curses that were outlawed, with a lifetime of imprisonment in Azkaban for anyone caught using them.

The Cruciatus curse, was one that put its victim in indescribable agony. So he was basically a criminal now. _Whoops._

Aramil tried to make a run for it, but six different wizards pulled out their wands and shot some ray of red light that made him lose consciousness.

 _Lousy world...didn't even have to make a ranged touch attack roll..._

* * *

 _OW._

His eyes opened as he slipped and hit his head against something hard. Recoiling, he noticed the hard thing he hit his head against was a metal bar. Moving back a little, he noticed there were more.

He was in prison. So they had knocked him out, and then arrested him. He noticed that Naberius was no longer bound to him, so it must have been a day or longer since the Inn Incident. And for some reason, he was missing his shoes. _Well,_ _this should be easy._ First things first, figure out where the keys were. Usually they were on a hook on the wall opposite to him...

Nope, not there. The guards here were more genre savvy then most. Okay, not a problem. Then they were bound to be on the wall next to him.

 _"Summon Celestial Monkey."_ A monkey with golden fur popped into existence, jumping away from the bars like it was on fire.

"You can relax," He said in Celestial (it was either that or Common, and this seemed more likely), "I'm not using you to spring a trap, for once. Is there a key on either of the walls next to me?"

The monkey, looking extremely relieved, nodded its head furiously.

Aramil smiled. "Hurrah for idiotic guards. Knock it down, will you?"

The Celestial (Trap)Monkey tried jumping up, but it somehow sank into the floor, right before the spell duration ran out. _Right, Jump's based on Strength, and the Monkey has a strength score of like 3. I'll have to pop out an owl or something like that._

 _"Summon Fiendish Hawk."_ The monkey was CG, the hawk was CE. He had to balance out his CN alignment somehow. "Hey get the key off the wall, will you?" Move action to fly up to that height, standard action to grasp the key in its beak...

The spell ran out of time again.

And the key fell to the floor, making a large, noticeable sound in the empty corridor.

* * *

"Shit." Aramil scrambled away from the bars, throwing himself onto the cot and adopting a nonchalant expression.

And not a moment too soon. A wizard popped into existence a fraction of a second later, wand raised in a threatening pose. After a cursory glance around to make sure there wasn't anyone else nearby who could've taken the key off the hook, he approached Aramil's cell.

"Hey, you. What just happened to the key?"

Aramil glanced over at him. He was tall, had a few grey hairs here and there. Left-handed. "You tell me. Can't a prisoner get some sleep around here?"

The wizard eyed him suspiciously, but didn't say anything. He lowered his wand and scooped up the key off the floor.

As he was placing the key back on the wall, an idea struck Aramil. He got up and walked over to the left wall, where it would be easily seen by the guard.

The wizard guard jumped back a little when he got up, training his wand on Aramil. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He bit his right hand, drawing blood, and started painting a seal on the wall with his left hand. The Green Lady seemed like it would be the best vestige in this situation. Maybe _Summon Undead I_ for the spell?

"Hey, uh, stop that!"

Aramil ignored him and kept on painting. He had finished about one-quarter of it.

"Listen, if you don't stop whatever you're doing, I'll-um, you're going to be in a lot of trouble!" _Oooh, so scary. I wonder why he doesn't cast a spell through the bars though. The bars don't seem that close together._

The wizard looked up and down the corridor. "Ah, forget it." He walked over and unlocked the door.

 _Perfect._ As the wizard came in, intending to physically stop him from completing the seal, he flicked the blood into hid face.

While he was momentarily shocked from the blood, Aramil grabbed him and threw him against the wall.

The wizard fell to the floor with a nasty bruise forming on his face. Was he still alive? He crouched down and checked him for a pulse. Didn't have any ranks in Heal, but that wasn't a Trained-Only skill. Yep, still breathing.

Aramil disrobed him, leaving him in his undergarments. He'd have a harder time trying to get out if he was just in his underpants. He took his wand, too. He had no idea how to use it, but it'd probably be strange not to have a wand.

As for the half-finished seal...did he have time? Yeah, probably. But now that he thought about it, the vestige's influence and sign would get him caught, or worse. He left it on the wall to discredit the wizard.

"Okay, final check. I have the key, his robes which I should get rid of, his wand, and an unconscious wizard." He stepped out of the cell, stashed the wand in a secret pocket in his robes, and locked the door.

* * *

Aramil would've liked to say that he made it out of wherever he was, got his stuff back, and made it back to the Material Plane. He would've liked to say that.

In reality, he took about two steps down the hallway, and then he was face down on the floor as two wizards handcuffed him and hauled him to his feet.

One of the wizards, a tall dark-skinned one, snatched the key from him and looked him over. "How the hell did you get out of your cell?"

"A monkey, a hawk, and one very stupid wizard. Like seriously, it was s _o easy_ to fool him." The wizard looked back at his partner, a wizard who's hair reminded Aramil of an old lion. The limp didn't help either.

Anyway, he was helping the guard out of the cell and giving him back the robes. "Rufus, you find anything in there?"

"Yeah, you should...probably come see this, Kingsley." With a sideways glance at Aramil, Kingsley roughly pulled hi along to the cell. He passed him along to Rufus as he took a look inside the cell.

Aramil looked him over. "You know Rufus, you wouldn't be that bad-looking if you did something about that hair." He got nothing but a cold stare. "You know what, you're not that cute after all."

Kingsley looked shaken up. "What the hell's that seal for?"

He shrugged. "What do you think it was for? To trick Stupid over here into coming into the cell. It's also a summoning seal for a horror beyond reality, but I didn't finish it. Idiot."

The wizard looked furious, but he stalked away down the hallway. In the brief time that they were looking at the wizard with a faint hint of disapproval, Aramil shifted into the form of a Lesser Tiefling, as he was feeling spiteful. It was still humanoid, so he could do it. Hooves, horns, and all. He hissed at them and rolled an Intimidate check.

Good news, he scared them. Bad news, their reactions were immediately to hit him with some red spell.

 _Dammit, why did I think this was a good idea?_

* * *

As Aramil was coming to, he could feel himself being shackled into a chair. They were fastening something around his arms. He could hear someone talking from far away.

"...and your first reaction was to Stun him? This won't look well if someone like Skeeter hears about this."

"Sorry sir, he caught us off guard with his...shapeshifting? This goes beyond Animagi or Metamorphmagi, or Kelpies. It's definitely nothing we've ever seen before."

"So, unidentified species? Well, we know the protocol for that. Someone send a memo to the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. What was his name again, Hutchcroft? Yes, someone send for Hutchcroft."

"On it, sir." At this point, he decided to open his eyes. He yawned and smacked Rufus with his tail, before taking the form of a Lesser Aasimar. He could see the edge of a pure-white feather peaking out from his blonde hair.

"Okay, so what'd I miss?" Rufus didn't even look mad, just slightly shocked. Aramil took in his surroundings.

He was in a room that was deep underground, judging by the air. It just felt different. There was chains around his arms securing him to the chair. Aramil tried moving his arms. _Okay, no dice._ He wouldn't be able to cast spells with those. He could still cast _Power Word Pain_ , though. And he could always use his _D_ _raconic Ray_ to escape the shackles.

Aramil (Aramil the aasimar, he liked the sound of that) looked up at the man in front of him. A bit pudgy, and wearing a lime-green hat. He was sitting on a chair high above him, with benches to the left and right of him. The seats were completely empty, save for a nervous-looking young man who had a quill and several rolls of parchment on his lap to the man's left, and a square-jawed woman who looked like she had never smiled before in her life on his right. They were all wearing plum-coloured robes.

"So, I get a trial. Where I'm from, they usually just throw you in jail, or execute you outright, depending on who's in charge and if you're human or not." The young man started writing something down. Okay, so he was the Court Scribe or something who wrote everything down.

The man who was presumably in charge nodded to Rufus and Kingsley, who walked out of his sight. A few seconds later, he heard a door closing, the sound booming through the empty chamber. _So they aren't allowed to listen in._ The man leaned in.

"And you're from...?" The scribe dipped his feather in his inkwell in anticipation.

"Greyhawk. And that hat makes you look like an overweight penguin." He said it in Celestial, so that was complete gibberish to them. _Lets see the scribe write that down._

The man looked around. "Uh...did anyone get that?" The woman and the scribe shrugged.

"Just write the general sounds down, we'll get a translator later." He turned back to Aramil. "Well, let's get on with the trial."

* * *

 **And here's the next chapter. That took longer then usual, but it's more then double the previous two, so it's about an even trade. Sorry to end on a cliff hanger! I might not be able to be able to update this time next week, because I'll have summer school. See you next time.**


	6. Trials & Tribulations

**Not sure if I said it before, but this is 3.5. Anyway, on with the chapter.**

* * *

"The trial of-uh, what's your name again?"

He looked up from the suspicious red stain on the arm of the chair he had been examining. "I never told you my name, but its Aramil."

Aramil could here him muttering. "Oh, so _now_ you're speaking English..." The Scribe bent his head down and wrote it down carefully. "Wait, just Aramil?"

He always turned defensive when this came up. "Yes just Aramil, you plum-colored stunted pumpkin. When you talk, you look like an overweight toddler who's on the verge of crying because he doesn't understand anything."

The man's eyebrows shot up into his receding hair line. The square-jawed woman looked like she was fighting the urge to smile, while the Scribe was very hesitant. He raised a hand. "Sir?"

The man was glaring daggers at him. "Yes, Travis?" The overweight toddler was holding his wand with an ironclad grip.

"Well, uh, do I write that down?"

"Unfortunately."

The boom of the doors opening (they must be a pain to oil) drew everyone's attention. Aramil craned his neck to see whoever just came in, but all he could tel was that it was either a centaur, or more then one person.

The man relaxed his grip on the wand. "Travis, glad you can make it. Dumbledore, I didn't expect you to be here." _Aberforth's here?_

As they walked around to the seats, he could see it was Albus. _Oh. Well, still good. He probably knows his way around a court room._ Travis was a man with a slight limp who had no other distinctive features whatsoever.

Albus had a slight, ever-present smile on his face liked he was a senile old man who wandered into the wrong room. "Well I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, after all Cornelius." Aramil had no idea what that title meant, but it had Warlock and a complicated word in it, so it sounded impressive. The same couldn't be said for the man's name.

Albus and Travis took up seats to the right of the square-jawed woman. The old wizard waved his hand for him to continue.

Cornelius cleared his throat. "Okay, back on. Let the trial of Aramil commence. Amelia Bones is here as a full-fledged member of the Wizengamot, Bartleby Jones is here as the Court Scribe, and Albus Dumbledore is here as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. And I, Cornelius Fudge, am here as-"

"Okay, okay, hold up for a moment. Your full name is _Cornelius Fudge?_ Seriously?"

If 'Cornelius' Fudge was a Beholder, Aramil would be dust, dead, stone, or something else. He didn't remember the others. "Yes. Is there a problem with that, Mr Aramil?"

He shook his head. "Nope. It just means your parents didn't love you enough to give you a good name." Aramil sat back. "Okay, proceed."

Cornelius looked like he was abut to say something, but continued on with the trial. "And I, Cornelius Fudge, am here as current Minister of Magic." Okay, maybe angering him wasn't the wisest course of action.

"Aramil, you stand accused of using Dark Magic offensively against another Being. How do you plead?" _Dark Magic? That was just a Power Word Pain spell. These soft-hearted fools would die if they saw Animate Undead._ But he held that in, and considered what to say.

"Not guilty...Your Honor?" Did he need to say that? He was unsure of the court procedures here, but Aramil was a genius with 18 Intelligence, so he was pretty sure he'd survive.

"Not needed. If you have any evidence, or any witnesses you'd like to present, you may do so now."

 _Huh._ Aramil had not been expecting this. He had no time to prepare for this. But whining about not getting a lawyer or time to gather witnesses wouldn't really do anything. He sat back and gathered his thoughts. What to say, what to say...

An uncomfortable silence formed in the Wizengamot room, with everyone leaning in towards him.

 _Yes, that could work...And I have a Diplomacy and Bluff modifier in the double digits._ Aramil cleared his throat.

"Did I have a wand on me?"

Cornelius frowned. "What do you mean?"

Aramil tilted his head. "Exactly what I said. When I casted the 'Dark Magic' on that rude wizard, did I have a wand on me?"

The Minister shuffled through his papers. "Uh...according to the witness statements...no. Why?"

" _Because_ , that means I couldn't hav _e_ possibly used any Dark Magic at all against whatever his name was."

Travis, Head of the Department for the blah blah blah piped up. "Also, that would have been a violation of Clause Three of the Code of Wand Use, which states that only humans or part-humans may carry a wand."

"That seems like a law made so that humans can feel special and not worry about any 'lesser' beings challenging them."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room for a minute while everyone avoided Aramil's gaze.

He snorted with derision. "Humans. You're all the same."

The man who's name he had already forgotten seemed to be scrambling for something to say. "Well, after this trial, if you could accompany me to to my office, I'm sure we could arrange something for you."

"Maybe. But back to this trial. So if I didn't have a wand on me, then it must have been a inborn magical ability, which it was."

Cornelius raised an eyebrow. "A simple magical spell revealed internal organ damage to the wizard Gregory Stener. If it continued for much longer, it's possible he would've died, in great agony. Are you saying that you could've killed him without so much as an eye blink?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah. I have more magical power in my right hand then you do in your entire body. _Flare._ " There was a burst of light near the top of the chamber, throwing sharp shadows everywhere. "See?"

"I..see. But that has no effect on the trial." Cornelius was shaken up, as was almost everyone. Albus just looked deep in thought.

"Doesn't it? If it's from a magical ability that I have, can you really call it evil? It may cause harm, but if I fee threatened, what else can I do?" It seemed to be going well for him. He could see that he was starting to win over that guy (Marcus or something?) and Amelia.

"You could just not use it."

"What, and be unprotected? That wizard was threatening me. Should I have stood there with no magical protection while he was about to cast a spell on me?" H didn't even have his wand out, but they didn't need to know that.

While he was thinking about that, Albus frowned while staring off into space. _That's odd...is he monitoring my thoughts? Dammit._ At those thoughts, the old man met his gaze.

Aramil had been stuck in the Abyss for the better part of a century. He had seen atrocities that would leave the most depraved of villains shakened, witnessed the skies themselves start to rain tears of blood, and endured the terrifying emptiness of the Wells of Darkness. He focused on those horrifying images, and watched as Albus received them.

He was quite pleased to see the old man's eyes widen in shock.

Meanwhile, Cornelius was coming to a decision. "I see. You may have been defending yourself, but there were still othEr, less lethal methods you could've taken." The Minister looked at the other wizards. "All in favor of a fine of 50 galleons?"

Amelia's, Travis's (right, that was his name?), and Albus's hands went up. The Scribe didn't vote, possibly due to the fact that he wasn't allowed to as the Scribe.

"Very well, this trial is over." Cornelius tapped his wand on the table in front of him and the sound of a hammer echoed around the room.

* * *

At the sound, the shackles around his arms retreated into the chair. "Phew. Well, it's been an...experience meeting you all." Aramil got up from the chair, rubbing his wrists. "Hey, where's my stuff?"

Cornelius waved his wand and the bag appeared at his feet. "Thanks, Corn." He picked up the bag and left the room with a mock salute. Once he was out, he sat on a bench outside the room and waited.

Amelia left first, a curious glance at him was all she got. Then Travis came and sit on the bench beside him.

"So...have you considered my offer? Discovering a new magical species would be absolutely _amazing_ for the department, just the discovery we need to finally get a bigger budget." Travis was sweating slightly.

"What's in it for me? This seems like the sort of thing that would take a while." Aramil made a quick Spot check. Nothing was missing, though someone had definitely looked through it. Good thing he wrote all his journal entries in a Sylvan dialect that had died centuries ago, and he occasionally threw in some Draconic or Abyssal to confuse people.

"Well..." He was trying to come up with something, and was failing miserably. "Okay, there's nothing I can really give you. But-"

"Then I'm not interested." He needed to get back to the inn, get his armor, and plan his next move.

"But-"

Aramil fixed the man with an Intimidate check. "Goodbye."

Nailed it with a natural 20. The pale-faced man got up and hurriedly walked away. At least skill checks worked normally in this world.

Next came Cornelius and the Scribe, who both avoided eye contact with him, the former had an iron grasp on his lime green hat.

"That was quite...graphic." _Ah, the man I was waiting for._ Albus sat down on the bench beside him. "Why were you thinking about that?"

"I don't know, why were you rifling through my thoughts?" Aramil closed his backpack and glared at Albus. "I don't recall giving you permission."

"I don't need it for court purposes, but I apologize for the intrusion. It was required."

"Hmm...fine." A thought struck him. "Wait, how much did you see?"

Those glasses of his were probably how he was in Aramil's mind in the first place. "I know that you're from a place called Greyhawk where almost everything functions differently, you were trapped in the 'Abyss' for a long period f time, and you are far older then me, or this building which you probably do not know how to exit." _Well, the cat's out of the Bag of Holding._

"One thousand and twelve years, six months, three days, and a bit."

Albus looked impressed. "Fascinating. Is that a result of a spell, or can your race live for such long periods of time naturally?"

He shrugged. "I've never met another of my kind, but Fey are usually immortal. We'll last as long as the world will."

"Immortality? Fascinating..." He seemed to be in deep thought.

When the silence had been stretching onward for an uncomfortable amount of time Aramil got up to leave, when he realized he had no idea how to get back to Hogsmeade, or where the exit was in the first place. If it had one. Wizards in this place could spam _Greater Teleports_ all day,they didn't need to have a security risk which enemies could literally walk right through.

He turned back to Albus, who was still quietly thinking to himself. "Um...hey, do you know how to get back to Hogsmeade?"

He didn't respond. _Yep, he's either senile or dead._

"Uh...Albus?"

The old man looked back up. "Apologies, lost in thought. Yes, I can get you back to Hogsmeade." He stood up and held out his arm. "Just hold onto my arm."

 _So you can bring along people with Apparation._ Aramil picked up his backpack and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, what now?"

"Hold on, this may be a bit disorientating." _Can't be that bad._

* * *

He was wrong.

Aramil spun away and vomited. _What the hells was that?_

"Apologies. _Evanesco._ " The vomit vanished, leaving only a sickened Aramil. He sat down on a rock to clear his head.

"You know, I was stuck in a sewer once. I was hunting down some sort of Ooze creature that smelled absolutely _disgusting._ It had fast healing and the Split ability, so it was a pain to fight. It also smelled like Asmodeus's toilet. All in all, it was one of the most disgusting experiences in my life. And yet, I would've preferred going through that ten more times then doing that again."

Albus smiled faintly. "Don't worry about that. We've arrived at the village, so this appears to be goodbye for now. What are your plans for getting back to Greyhawk?"

He shrugged. "Well I don't have _Plane Shift,_ so I'll have to level up about 13 more times or so. No idea how I'll do that. I'd need easy access to a place filled with creatures to defeat, and for my plans to go as quickly as possible, I'll need money. So I'll have to get a job as soon as possible. Maybe at Aberforth's place..."

The wizard started to walk away and motioned for him to follow. Aramil picked up his backpack and followed. "My brother prefers his space, and it's not the most healthy environment to work in."

"I'm over a thousand years old, remember? Don't treat me like a kid now." Dumbledore dipped his head.

"Of course, my apologies. Your appearance is rather youthful. Speaking of which, is that your normal form?" They were approaching a large and ornate pair of gates, which opened with a flick of his wand.

"My true form can only be seen by other Fey. I'm always in the form of someone else. Right now, I'm an Aasmiar, a race descended from celestial beings and humans."

"Hmm. You should probably adopt a regular form for people to recognize you by, if I'm to offer you a job."

Aramil stopped in his tracks. "Wait, what?"

Dumbledore stopped and looked back at him. "Oh, one of our assistants recently quit. Summer tends to be quite slow, so we've been able to handle it, but we'll need another for the upcoming school year." Hmm...it did sound like a good deal. And he did need money if he wanted to retrain his feats to get into Anima Mage at level four.

"Hmm...what would I have to do?" He started walking again alongside Albus.

"Oh, nothing too strenuous. Just marking papers, helping out the teachers if they need an extra pair of hands in their classroom."

"Hmm, sure. I accept." Not like he had anything else to do.

"Excellent."

It was just then Aramil noticed the huge castle looming out of nowhere. _Huh. I need to make Spot checks more often._ "So that's the school? Bigger then I expected."

"Well, it also has the student dormitories, bathrooms, kitchen, Great Hall, and other things."

Aramil looked over at him. "'other things'? That sort of implies there's things you don't know out your own school."

Albus nodded. "Hogwarts has many secrets hidden within its walls. I'd never be as presumptuous to assume I know all of Hogwarts's secrets. But enough about that. You've had a long day, you should get some rest." He walked Aramil over to near the edge of the forest. "This is where you'll be staying."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was starting to doubt the Headmaster's mental health. "Um, there's nothing-" Albus flicked his wand. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then there was a low rumbling as something was burrowing to the surface.

A number of trees burst from the ground, weaving around each other to form a frame of some sort, and seemed to merge into one. Branches started growing to form a roof, with leaves blooming from them.

After about a minute there was an impossibly large ash tree in front of him, with a doorway framed by the naga-sized roots.

Albus was beaming. "Ah, so the spell works. Wasn't sure if I had worked out all the kinks yet."

Aramil finally regained his ability to speak. "Uh...um..you're quite the wizard."

"Oh it was nothing." Albus flicked his wand and the door opened. "Well, I'll leave you to your rest. I'll have someone bring you some food in an hour." He vanished without a sound.

"Okay, Rule One: Never doubt Albus." Aramil tentatively walked through the front door.

* * *

 **Well, this seems like a good place to end it. Sorry about the delay, summer school and stuff. But at least I'm updating more often then the Natural 20, eh?**

 **Kidding, Sir Poley probably's doing important things. Anyway, I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as possible, or whenever I feel like it. Adios.**


	7. Settling In

"Huh."

The first thing Aramil noticed was the floor. He wasn't sure how grass could grow inside a tree (or how anything could grow inside a tree in the first place), but he wasn't going to question it. He liked the grass floor, it was very fey-like.

Looking up, he could see the afternoon light streaming through the leaves. "Wait, so the tree's hollow? That might be a problem when it starts to rain...Note to self; talk to Dumbledore about that." Other then those two issues, it seemed like a good home. Wait, what was that? here was some weird mark on the other side of the room/tree...

Barely passing a Spot check, he noticed the steps that blended in with the wood. "Okay, that's interesting." Walking up the staircase got him to a second landing above the entrance. This one led outside to a branch that must've been about thirty feet wide at the least. The leaves and smaller branches hid it from the ground view.

Peaking back into the tree, Aramil noticed a few other similar doorways, at regular intervals along the stairway that most likely led to more branches like the one he was standing on.

He grinned. "Okay, this place is amazing."

* * *

After he made it back downstairs, Aramil bound himself to the Green Lady again. It seemed like the adventuring day was over for him, but it was always good to be prepared. He was about to drift off to sleep when he remembered the wand.

"Right, that thing." He pulled it out of his pocket and examined it. About 11 inches, wooden, in good condition aside from Aramil's blood all over it. It looked like an ordinary unimpressive stick. And that was all it was going to be, unless he could get his hand on some spells. He slipped it back into his pocket. For now, it was best to keep it hidden. Then take over the world with it.

His thoughts of world domination were interrupted by a loud _crack_ and the appearance of what looked like a mutant goblin. He jumped to his feet and was about to cast _Power Word Pain_ before he noticed the large silver tray of food it was carrying. Goblins wren't usually smart enough to try and poison their enemy's food. Or gain enough spellcasting levels to learn _Teleport_ , now that he thought about it.

"Master Dumbledore ordered me to bring you some food!" It shifted the tray to one hand and snapped its fingers, conjuring up a wooden table with a chair. It placed the tray on the table, and then bowed deeply, with it's long nose touching the floor. "Is there anything else Mokey can do for you?"

 _Interesting._ He sat down."A bed, a desk, another chair, and a few spellbooks, but this will do for now, thank you." Mokey bowed again, and vanished with another loud _crack._

Aramil surveyed the tray. Mostly meat, but there was some fruit. He picked up an apple and started to dig in, planning his next move. He had a wand, and the best next move was to find some sort of spell that could get him back to the Prime Material Plane as soon as possible. If there wasn't...well, he could just level up a lot more until he could cast _Plane Shift._

He placed the apple core back on the tray. "First thing tomorrow; wander into the forest and attack anything that attacks me first." There was some bread, but before he could take a bite, there was a knock on the door/roots.

"Great. Why do they always call when you're eating?" Aramil used his _Mage Armor_ SLA from his pact. For all he knew, it was that thing from Sigil again. He opened the door and it was...Albus. He got to live another day.

"Hello, Aramil. Just came by to see how you've been settling in." Albus seemed much more relaxed then he had appeared at the trial. He looked past him and saw the table. "Ah, I see the house elves brought you something to eat."

Aramil raised an eyebrow. "House elf?"

"They're creatures that serve in wizarding households, cooking and cleaning and so on. They obey their master's every word, and will serve them until they die."

He stepped out of the way, allowing Albus to enter. He had a feeling this talk would take a while. "And you have several of these 'house elves' as servants?"

Albus conjured a chair and sat down, motioning for Aramil to do the same. "No, they work for the school, not for me personally. They mainly cook and clean. But I was planning on talking about something else."

Aramil sat down and nodded. "Sure, what do you need?"

"So from what you've explained, and what I learned from your mind at the Ministry, your race has no set form, always in the guise of another race."

He grabbed the bread. "Other fey can see our true forms, but yes, you're correct. Go on."

Albus seemed to be having a hard time figuring out the right words. "So...it might be a good idea to...adopt a form to...use when interacting with the teachers and students. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah." Aramil finished his bread and dusted off the breadcrumbs. "Just give me some time to pick a form that I like."

He nodded. "Very well, I'll see you tomorrow." He got up and moved to leave, but stopped in his tracks. "Oh right, almost forgot." He took out his wand and said something under his breath Aramil couldn't quite catch.

Next thing he knew, there was a bed on the far side of the tree.

The headmaster put his wand away. "You've had a long day, you must be exhausted. And now, I'll leave you to your meal." The old man vanish without a sound, and he was alone again.

* * *

 **Okay, ending it here because I don't think anyone really ants a whole paragraph about how he finished his meal and then went to bed.**

 **Sorry for the huge delay, everyone. Had summer school, then I got involved in 2 Pathfinder games, one 3.5, and a 3.5 might be delay for the next one, currently working out the details.**

 **Adios.**


	8. Meet the New Guy

Aramil woke up to a leaf covering his face. Brushing it away, Aramil sat up and realized he was in a bed inside what appeared to be a giant tree.. _How much did I have to drink last night?_

He noticed the wand on the table and everything came back to him. Sigil, Aberforth, the courtroom, Hogwarts.

"Dammit...I was sort of hoping this was all some sort of bad dream from inhaling Mordayn Vapor. Well, no use sulking now, I have...some sort of vaguely defined assistant job to do." Aramil dragged himself out of bed and put on his robes, noting a few holes and the frayed collar. He was going to have to replace them. It was a shame, he'd purchased the robes over a century ago in...somewhere.

"And my memory's going. That's definitely a good sign. Oh well." Aramil contemplated what face to choose. He could always be a human , but that was always so _boring._ He always liked being an Elf. Close enough to human to not be lynched, but was considered somewhat exotic.

"Guess I'll go with the Star Elf look." He closed his eyes for a moment. He could see what his face looked like now, a half-elf 'friend' he had met several centuries ago. Concentrating, Aramil watched his face ripple like water and change into a face with a mop of messy silver-white hair and grey eyes.

Hmm...should he be female this time around? It might be interesting...

 _Nah, I'll try it next life._ He made himself male and opened his eyes. It didn't feel much different, though he noticed that he was about an inch taller. Well, he could check that off his list. And now he could get on with...absolutely nothing.

Aramil sat down at the table, grabbed his journal and started a new entry.

 _4663 OC, a few days after 12th of Fruitfall, High Summer._

 _So, I got into a little scuffle with a human. I used a Power Word Pain spell, and then next thing I knew, I was waking up in a cell. Of course, I managed to disable the guard and escape, but then I was grabbed by some wizards-these ones seem to need wands to cast spells, the poor things-who actually knew what they were doing. I went to trial, met Aberforth's brother and got off relatively scot-free. All I have to do is pay a fine of fifty galleons. Not the ship, thank Io, its the local currency_ _. Fortunately, Aberforth's brother, Albus, gave me a job as an assistant at his wizard school. Which seems like too much of a coincidence, but I think I'll just thank Olidammara for now._

He put down his quill and left the page out to dry.

"First things first, I need to get a familiar. If I can't talk to someone about stuff like Hit Die or Attack Rolls, I'll go insane. Well, more then I already am." Aramil smiled morbidly, and then it quickly faded.

"But since I stupidly gave up my Summon Familiar ability, that will take a while. So, I'll need XP...Which will take a while." He looked up hopefully. "Hey, any chance I can get some XP for that defeat of the wizard and escaping from the jail cell?"

Resignedly, as if it was a half-hearted _sure, why not_ , Aramil heard the familiar _ding!_ of leveling up.

He got out his character sheet and started updating it. "Finally. No more getting weird looks from my vestige abilities. And I've finally gotten rid of that pesky Level Adjustment...Oh, and also Pact Augmentation. I guess every AC bonus helps."

Just as Aramil was adding his new BAB, there was a knock on the door/roots/whatever thingy.

"Come in." He finished scribbling in his second level of Binder and put away the sheet. As an afterthought, he quickly snatched away the wand and hid it in his robes.

It was Albus, of course. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw him. "Aramil?"

He nodded, standing up. "In the slightly different flesh. What do you think, are the eyes a bit too much?"

Albus got a little closer, adjusting his glasses. "Not really. But what exactly are you masquerading as? You don't appear to be human."

"Star Elf. Our elves are human-sized, as you could probably tell from my memories."

"Hmm, interesting. Anyways, I came to see if you were hungry. Breakfast starts in fifteen minutes."

Aramil briefly considered it. "Not really. After all, I only need to eat about once every three days. You can go on without me."

"Come anyway. I'll introduce you to the other staff. There's also an important announcement you should hear." Albus started walking towards the door without seeing if Aramil was following him.

"Very well. I guess I should eventually meet my coworkers." Aramil followed him out the doors/roots/whatever thingy.

* * *

Aramil walked into what was apparently called the 'Great Hall', though he'd seen greater halls. Five people were gathered around a table in the middle of the hall with empty plates, probably waiting for them.

"Everyone, I'd like you to met Aramil, the new assistant." He gave a small wave as he sat down next to Albus, looking around at the others. Oddly enough, nobody seem perturbed by his unusual appearance. _They're teachers at a school for magic, they probably see weirder things on a daily basis._

There was a greasy-haired man who was obviously a necromancer, a living mountain who was most likely a half-giant, a short, bearded man who might have been a gnome, a short woman with wavy, grey hair and a motherly smile, and a tall elderly woman with a very strict appearance.

Albus gestured to each of them in turn. "This is Severus Snape, the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper and new Care of Magical Creatures (he noticed Hagrid was blushing slightly when Albus mentioned his new job), Filius Flitwick, Charms Master and Head of Ravenclaw House, Pomona Sprout, Professor of Herbology and Head of Huffflepuff House. And Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Professor of Transfiguration, and Head of Gryffindor House." They all gave him a friendly smile, except for Severus, who looked at him as if he was something unpleasant he found on the bottom of his shoe. But that was necessary, so the protagonist could know who was secretly evil, with no one believing him/her until the inevitable betrayal. Nothing he could do about it right now, so he just smiled back at Snape.

The headmaster turned to him. "Now Aramil, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?" _No thanks. But if it advances the plot, then sure._

Aramil took a deep breath. "Well, the first thing you should probably know is that I'm much older then I look..."

* * *

"...And that's when Albus and I Apparated back."

Aramil loved time-skips. He wasn't really sure how they worked, but being able to bend the laws of time into a mockery of everything sacred when telling stories helped save time.

Snape was the first one to stir. "In all my years of missing homework and ruined potions, _that_ was the worst lie I've ever heard."

Minerva almost looked scandalized. " _Severus!_ " Aramil just sat there, looking at the other teachers. Minerva seemed convinced, judging by her outburst. Pomona seemed doubtful, while Filius and Rubeus seemed like they didn't know what to think.

Albus however, was simply digging into his eggs, which had seem to arrive sometime during the time-skip. He looked down at his own plate. Toast and a small container of what appeared to be some form of butter. He dug in as Snape began talking again.

"By all known laws of magic, his story is impossible. Even the Greeks disproved the possibility of other planes of existence, if you remember any of your seventh-year education."

Minerva was exasperated. "This is just like you Severus, you never open your mind to new ideas. Can't you at least open up your mind to the possibility of it?"

"I can accept that there might be some great feats of magic we haven't discovered yet, not entire universes.", He snapped at the Transfiguration professor. "And it's just like _you_ , Minerva to believe every story told by a soft-faced orphan who-"

 _"Summon Celestial Giant Fire Beetle."_

Everyone, not including Albus, jumped back from the table as a 2 foot long glowing beetle appeared with its legs in most people's breakfast.

Aramil addressed the insect in Celestial. "Hi, I'm Aramil. What's your name?"

The fire beetle look around suspiciously. "Uh...I'm Larry? Do you need something or not, I have a party on Celestia to get back to."

"It'll be quick, I promise. Just fly into that man's face-" He said while pointing at Snape, "At top speed, and bite him for non-lethal damage."

"On it, boss." Larry the Fire Beetle flew into Snape, causing the panicked man to topple over in his chair. A moment later, he heard a muffled shout of pain, and a loud _crack._

Snape hauled himself up with an iron grip on his wand, and a large bug bite forming on his cheek. He seemed to be actively repressing the urge to retaliate against Aramil.

Aramil sat back, pleasantly smug. "How's your acceptance now?"

He sat down again, fuming. "If you ever do that again, I swear-"

At this point, Albus seemed to be paying attention again. "Oh, we seem to have finished our debate. On to more pressing matters, then." Minerva gave him a covert wink and a smile, while everyone else seemed to have decided that the Fire Beetle Incident never happened. The Potions Master was still giving him a nasty glare.

Albus stood up. "I'm sure everyone here remembers Remus Lupin." He ventured, glancing momentarily at Snape.

Curiously, Snape seemed to grow even more enraged. The suppressed smiles on everyone's faces from Snape's embarrassment promptly vanished, and were replaced with mounting apprehension. Whoever Remus Lupin was, he was not well liked.

Sensing the tension, he took a deep breath and continued. "He is now our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Aramil wasn't prepared for the uproar that followed. Everyone stood up and started yelling at Albus, making it difficult for him to hear what they were leaned over to Snape, who seemed to be quietly suppressing the urge to murder Albus, Aramil, and whoever the hells Remus Lupin was.

"So, who is this infamous Remus Lupin?" At the sound of his name, Snape's iron grasp on his glass shattered it, but he didn't let go of it. _Okay, that's a bad sign._

He spat out the following words like poison. "He's a werewolf, who almost turned me before."

* * *

 **And here we are. I've been busy for a while, taking a break while i sketched out the next part of the story in my head. You can expect one or two more updates before Christmas, and we should be up to the start of Harry's third year by then.**

 **Now if you'll excuse me, Heaven Sent isn't going to watch itself.**


	9. Do I Really Need A Witty Title?

Albus raised his wand, sending out a shower of extremely loud sparks, shutting everybody up.

"That is enough." He looked furious. "I do not recall asking for anyone's advice on my hiring policies. This is not a poll, this is not negotiable, this is me, informing you ahead of time. I am the Headmaster, and I have every right to hire teachers without anyone's opinion."

Snape was the first one to find his voice. "Albus, I cannot allow you-"

"-Headmaster. And if you can't brew his required Wolfsbane potion every month, then I expect your resignation in ten minutes. You were always a quick writer, I'm sure you can figure it out." He got up from his chair. "Anyone have any other comments? Maybe about the way I choose my breakfast?"

Everyone seemed to agree that his choice in buttered toast was satisfactory, if a bit unevenly applied. _Gods, I love you._

Albus turned towards him. "And what about you? Anything to add?"

He shrugged. "I like you a lot more now."

"Good to hear. Now if you must excuse me, I have a letter to write to our newest hire." And with that, he walked away from a silent table.

Aramil sat back. "Professor Remus Lupin. You've got to admit, it has a nice ring to it."

* * *

"As much as I benefited it, some day Albus's kind heart is going to get him killed." He realized that sounded cynical, but it was true. He didn't get to be his age by taking in orphans and trusting werewolves. But Albus was in power here, and his word was law. _Good thing I'm Chaotic Neutral._

He looked over himself again. Still devilishly handsome, but his hair was getting boring. Maybe a change? Or maybe a new race. He hadn't been a Lesser Tiefling for a while. Aramil made the change, giving himself black hair, but keeping the grey eyes. He couldn't do anything about the faint smell of brimstone that seemed to surround him. Oh well, it would give them something to talk about.

Aramil looked around the room. Almost two months had passed since that conversation at breakfast, and the room reflected it.

Managing to secure some extra money for working in the various shops around Hogsmeade (in the form of a red-haired human girl), he managed to buy a new bed, a new desk, and the beginnings of an alchemy lab. Alchemist's fire could come in handy. He had also been studying up on magic (this world's magic, which he called Hogwarts Magic) and made everything water-repelling.

A few of the branches had been taken up by bird nests, so he left them alone. But he did manage to haul a few chalkboards up there, where he was working on a few personal projects.

Looking up at the stars, he noted that it was about time to go. The carriages pulled by the unsettling Threstals (he had almost attacked them when a young mare had sneaked up on him one night) would be here any minute. He fastened his dark blue cloak (it went well with his new silver robes) and stepped out into the night.

* * *

"Damn, it gets cold around here quickly." He pulled his hood over his head and set off at a brisk pace towards the castle. Taking a look over his shoulder at his home, he noticed the leaves were starting to fall and die. He'd need to do something about snow before winter hit. Another thing to add to his list.

#1: Find Out Why I'm Here. It was too much for a coincidence for him to be drawn to this plane. Why this plane, with its strange magic, and non-magical folk in power. He went back to the same spot he had entered this world from, to see if there was anything he could find out. After taking 20 on a Knowledge (Arcana) check and a Spellcraft check, he noticed that the boundaries that separated it from what he guessed were the Ethereal, the Astral, and the Plane of Shadow were particularly thin. And as those were commonly used as travel planes, that could provide an explanation...which led to 1a on his to-do list.

#1a: Take A Little Vacation: He needed to get to one of those planes. Did this place have its own sub-planes? Or were they just hidden in the furthest corners of the existing ones, like the Deep Ethereal? Either way, he needed to know.

#2: Level Up: Since the breakfast conversation he had leveled up a few times, making it to level 8. Aramil had hesitated about it, but after a lot of inner debate he had retrained his binder levels to Sorcerer, and had started out in Malconvoker. Vestiges were nice and all, but he'd be trapped for centuries on this plane if he sticked with Binder.

When he walked in, he noticed Filius crossing the Entrance Hall with a line of students. _Oh fuck, I'm late. Should've known that the stars would be different from home._ Some of them looked like they had been crying. Did they almost drown in the lake or something?

"Filius. What's with the tiny humans?" The half-goblin (as he had learned during the course of a strange night) beckoned for him to get closer. Curious, he knelt beside him.

"It was the Dementors. Things swarmed the train looking for Black. No one was Kissed, thank god, but Dumbledore was absolutely furious with the Ministry." Aramil had never been up close to the things (always giving them a wide berth), but he had heard plenty about them when Cornelius made the offer to Albus. He nodded and got up, looking over the new students. They couldn't have been older then eleven, just children...

"Well, seems like you've got you work cut out for you. I'd advise telling the ghosts to skip their little 'scene' for today, might get a few parents pulling them out." With a farewell to Filius, he made his way over to the doors leading into the Great Hall. He stopped for a moment, and checked his hair. Perfect, as usual.

And with that, he opened the doors.

* * *

Obviously, Aramil had never been in the Great Hall on the first day of the school year, but the noise was ridiculous. All anyone seemed to be talking about was the Dementors on the school train. One or two people gave him a curious look, but the rest hadn't noticed him at all. But then again, he'd be slightly more concerned about a soul-sucking monster then some person at a school he hadn't met yet.

The curious looks only increased as he kept on walking past the house tables, coming to a majority of the Hall staring at him as he sat down at the staff table, on the left side of Albus.

Ignoring the whispers, he turned to Albus. He looked calm enough, with a smile on his face, but he had come to know him quite well. He was drumming his fingers on the table as he looked around the Great Hall, monitoring the students. "So," Aramil ventured, "I heard about the Dementors."

The drumming stopped. "Yes, so did I. After it happened, naturally. Why inform the Headmaster about the monsters who are notorious for their lack of control searching a train full of his students? I sent a Howler to Cornelius about the situation, I'm waiting for his response."

Aramil had an amusing mental image of the bowler hat-wearing man opening an envelope and getting mauled by a 2,000-pound Outsider. Couldn't hurt his appearance. "I heard from Filius that none of the students were harmed."

"If they were, I would not be just sending letters."

Just then an owl flew in through a nearby window, swooping down to the table to land in front of Albus. Tied to its leg was a singed envelope that it presented to the Headmaster. Albus sliced it open with a word and his wand (he'd have to learn that spell, no need for a full-round coup de grace) and quickly scanned the letter.

"I'm assuming that's Cornelius?" Albus didn't look too happy about his response.

"A true politician's answer." He gave the letter to Aramil to read.

 _Albus,_

 _I understand you're angry about this, but it had to be done. The Hogwarts Express was a huge security problem. The logistics of moving a dozen Dementors through King's Cross Station, to Platform Nine 3/4 aside, there were too many people at the station to search there. I know that there was a small risk that one of the Students may have been Kissed, but the risk that Black had sneaked onto the train was greater, you do know who he's after, and Black is not a man to give up easily. Since you refused to have Harry Potter pulled out of school, then we had to take other protective measures._

Aramil frowned. "Harry Potter?" The name sounded familiar...

 _Ah, that one._ He remembered Minerva telling Aramil about him. Some student that had survived a supposedly unstoppable Killing Curse as a baby. Big whoop, he met several dozen adventurers who had done that in their backstory. When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, Plot Happens. "So Black's after Potter, because the curse rebounded and hit his boss? Might as well smash a mirror because you look particularly ugly in it."

Albus actually smiled a bit, as he watched Filius lead the first-years into the Hall. "I imagine you've never had that problem."

"One of the perks of being a shapeshifting immortal. You always look perfect, and you're always someone's idea of the perfect male. Or female." He took a sip of his drink. Firewhiskey? Finally, the house elves were actually listening to him. The Hat was singing some song about the houses and the ideas they represented. Gryffindor for bravery, Ravenclaw for intelligence, Slytherin for cunning, and Hufflepuff for all the rest. Well, he could see what the Sorting Hat thought about them.

Only three students in particular stood out to him.

There was Astoria Greengrass, a quiet little thing that scurried away to Slytherin.

There was Romilda Vane, a girl with dark, curly hair and an air of boldness, who walked up confidently to the Hat, and walked away arrogantly to the Gryffindor table.

And then there was...Aramil didn't catch his last name, but Heka strolled up to the Hat lazily, as if he didn't have a care in the world. When it announced Ravenclaw after about half a second on his head, he seemed bored as he sat down at the table. He seemed familiar...

"And that's my sign." Albus got from his seat to address the students. Aramil noticed a bushy-haired girl and a boy with messy black hair sneak into the Hall. _Hmph, humans. They're like rabbits. But then again, I'm one to talk._

Albus waited for the talk to die down, but it seemed like the students were quite happy chatting away about the Dementors. He sighed and turned to Aramil. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. _Lightning Bolt._ " The electricity stretched from his fingertips to the ceiling in an instant, the thunderclap shocking ( _heh_ ) the room into silence. "How's that?"

The Headmaster didn't even bat an eye. "I expected something a bit tamer, but I'm learning not to expect that from you anymore." He turned back to his podium. "Sorry for that, everyone. Now where was I...Ah, yes. Welcome! Welcome, everyone, to a new year at Hogwarts. I understand you all must be quite hungry, but there are several things we should get out of the way before the Feast..."

"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on business for the Ministry of Magic." He paused and looked around the room. The whole Hall seemed to be holding their breath.

He continued. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises-or even Invisibility Cloaks," He mentioned in passing.

A sole eyebrow shot up. Invisibility Cloaks? Didn't need an 18 in Intelligence to figure out what those did. He made a mental reminder to buy one of those. If nothing else, it'd save his painfully limited amount of spells. Back to the speech.

"-pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors." He had no idea who those people are, but he noticed that a number of students around the Hall suddenly stopped slouching. _Okay, found you._

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year."

Aramil paused while examining a strand of his hair. _Three_ new teachers? _I guess I'm one of them, kinda. And that Lupin fellow is the other, but who's the third? No new people from what I can see._

"First we have Professor Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Professor Lupin stood up and waved, to some rather unenthusiastic applause. He didn't look like much. Pale, hair that seemed to be turning more and more grey as he looked, and shabby clothing, instead of the primal strength he had seen from most lycanthropes. Being a werewolf didn't seem to be much fun in this world. He sat down as the applause quickly died off.

"As for our second appointment," Albus continued,"I'm sorry to say that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures retired at the end of last year, wishing to spend more time with his remaining limbs." _Now that class should be interesting._

"I am delighted, however, to say that the position will be filled by none other then Rubeus Hagrid, who will be taking this teaching job in addition to his game-keeping duties." As he got towards the end, Albus hurried his speech to outrun the enormous wave of applause. It seemed that Rubeus was well-liked by the students, particularly the Gryffindor table. After about a solid minute of applause, Albus was able to speak again.

"And last, but certainly not least, is Aramil, who will be the new general administrative assistant."

Aramil got up from his seat, and rolled a Charisma check. _"Silent Image."_

Natural 20. The Hall exploded into applause as Aramil conjured up a dazzling display of multicoloured lights that raced around the room. As it went clusters of lights became horses and wolves, galloping across tables, leaping though ghosts, and chasing each other down before joining into one ball of light at the very top of the Hall. It was silent for one single moment...

And then it exploded into hundreds of butterflies that seemed to fall like snow, before slowly fading away.

Aramil sat down to thunderous applause. With a first level spell and a little creativity (and of course, his natural Charisma), he managed to, what was the saying, 'bring down down the house'. Something like that.

Albus gave him one of his now familiar _You're an arrogant, self-absorbed twit, but you're a_ magnificent _self-absorbed twit_ looks. "Well, that was quite a spectacle. Everyone, dig in!" Silver platters groaning with food appeared on the tables, and the students happily complied.

Before Aramil could even take a bite, Albus was already talking him up. "In my century's worth of magical experience, I have never seen anything like that. You're quite the magical powerhouse."

He took a bite of some sort of salad, thinking about how best to respond. " _Aridarastrixiejir gethrisj persvek vorastrix_."

"Pardon me?"

"It's in Draconic, the language of dragons. Translated, it means 'dragon's blood flows in a sorcerer's veins'. Wizards get their power from years of study, druids and rangers from nature, clerics from faith, and sorcerers...tend to have dragon blood somewhere in their family. Or fey, or demon, or celestial, or something else."

Albus frowned. "So what you're saying is..."

"I have a green dragon as an ancestor. They could talk a commoner into taking on a horde of rampaging orcs, and convince him it was his own idea. They can also dissolve a man with their acidic breath weapon. Like so." A tiny green ray was projected from Aramil's fingertip, turning the remains of the salad into a toxic goop.

Ah, and now there was his famous _I don't approve_ _of your actions, young man_ look. "Keep in mind that I'm not a child, Albus." The Headmaster waved his wand and the salad vanished, replaced with a basket of fruit.

"I never said that."

"I know." They sat in silence for a while, observing the others. Personally, Aramil had the house elves prepare him a meal shortly before this. Dinners were for fine wine and socializing. You tended to miss important social cues when you were stuffing your face with dessert. Aramil had no idea if Albus had the same idea, but he wouldn't be surprised if he did. Great minds think alike.

Albus stirred. "How exactly did you learn of your draconic nature? If my memory serves me right, you told me you do not know of your parentage."

More questions. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been asked so many questions. People like that tended to tun up dead, for some odd reason. He took another sip of the Firewhiskey. Now he knew why humans called alcohol 'liquid courage'.

"Well, you're right. But as a quest reward for saving some priest of Boccob from a vampire, he gave me some very valuable information. I had the blood of Kalibraxtos, one of the most fearsome dragons to ever walk the earth. Unfortunately by the time I managed to track him down, he had been dead for centuries, so that trail went cold..."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He had hundreds of offspring, from dragons to aboleths to treants...I doubt he'd be able to remember one dalliance with a Lenean Sidhe." Aramil looked over the Hall, The students were laughing and feasting, the events of the train ride forgotten. At the Ravenclaw table Heka was talking to the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw, who seemed enraptured by the young boy's ramblings.

Albus followed Aramil's gaze. "Ah, Heka. Something bothering you about him?"

Heka looked up, making eye contact for a brief moment before resuming his conversation with the ghost. "He feels familiar, like I've met him before."

"I doubt it. His father, a brilliant Gryffindor, moved to Egypt several years ago, where he met Heka's mother. A few years after Heka was born, his parents unfortunately lost their lives. He went to live with an uncle in Ireland, which I found a bit odd. He had several relatives in Cairo, which is quite frankly the best magical institute on the continent. His uncle was the Court Scribe for your trial, however. Perhaps that's who you thought of?"

"Perhaps." Aramil felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, as if someone was watching him. He turned his head to see the bushy-haired brunette from earlier, giving him quite an intense stare. _Well, that's not creepy._

* * *

"And now he's caught you staring. First Lockhart, and now this Aramil bloke. What is it with you and teachers?"

"Oh, hush Ron. I'm not just looking at him because he's attractive."

"So you find him attractive, then?" Harry was pushing his food around his plate with his wand, causing it to turn a particularly bright shade of purple.

"Shut up Harry. It's just when he made all those lights, and the horses..."

Ron frowned through his mouthful of pudding. "Don't tell you hated that too."

"No, I thought it was quite lovely." Aramil, as Dumbledore had introduced him, had barely touched his food at all, instead looking around the room, and occasionally talking to Dumbledore. "The problem is, it's was way too good to be true."

"Come again? Also, you're drooling, 'Mione."

"Next time you feel like saying something like that, keep in mind that I can shrink your underwear to the size of a pebble."

Ron winced, shifting around in his seat "Point taken. What were you saying?"

"Thank you. What I was _saying_ , is that this Aramil fellow is casting very powerful magic, without a wand."

"So?"

"So that's impossible. All wizards need a wand for magic. Very powerful wizards, like Dumbledore, can do _some_ spells without needing one, but only the basic ones."

Ron seemed to be finally getting it "So he's like what, Merlin reincarnated?"

"Either that, or he's not human."

"Okay, now you're getting ridiculous. What else is he supposed to be, a really tall goblin?"

"The tallest ever goblin was recorded to have been six feet tall, but that's clearly not the case here. He could be a Veela, perhaps. He's already got the looks."

Harry twisted in his seat to get a better look at him. "What's a Veela?" There was just something odd about him. He was wearing a set of silver robes that stood out from the more conservative teacher robes. He had a smile on his face, as if the whole world was a faintly amusing game. He glanced over at him, and Harry hastily looked elsewhere."

"They're Beings native to Bulgaria. Looking like a fairly attractive human until they get angry. And then they turn into these harpy-like cratures with wings, and can throw fireballs from their hand. They have some powerful magic of their own, like-"

"Okay, that's enough 'mione. So is there a way to tell if he's a Veela or not?"

Hermione sighed. "Don't you ever pay attention in class? Yes. If we pluck a single hair from his head, he''ll be forced back into his true form..."

"Perfect, let's do that!"

"...Or he might die. Slavic textbooks don't translate well."

"Oh. We might have some leeway for helping Harry kill a gigantic snake, but I think Dumbledore would have to draw the line at murder. Speaking of which...we could always use the Cloak, and find something that can prove it to Dumbledore."

Hermione frowned. "He probably already knows. Do you really think he's capable of hiding something like that from one of the greatest wizards in the world?"

"Quirrel."

"Fair point Harry. Okay, this weekend we get the Cloak, and dig up some evidence. But for now, I want pudding."

* * *

After the fast was over, Aramil rose from his seat. He was about to leave before he was stopped by Albus.

"Yes? I need eight hours of sleep to refresh my spells, and I have business of my own to attend to."

Albus looked at him. "While your world may be different, silver does not harm werewolves here."

The four silver daggers strapped to Aramil"s forearms felt quite heavy at that moment. "I'll keep that in mind, in case I decide to go Chaotic Stupid and start stabbing my coworkers."

"See to it that you do not." In a moment he vanished into the crowd of students, only to be replaced by Lupin.

"You must be Aramil. Pleased to meet you. I'm-"

"Remus John Lupin, son of Lyall and Hope Lupin. Lycanthrope, bitten by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, after he felt your father slighted him. Graduated at the top of your class despite your numerous detentions alongside James Potter, Sirius Black, and Petter Pettigrew. Worked various short-time jobs over the years. Former member of the Order of the Phoenix." He shook Lupin's outstretched hand.

Lupin smiled self-consciously. "Didn't know you read my school file." Despite his faded appearance, he had a strong grip. 12 in Strength, maybe?

"Yeah, I read that one too. Did you guys really blow up a classroom?"

The werewolf shrugged. "No one ever found proof that James snuck fifty Dungbombs into Potions." For a brief moment, he looked ten years younger.

"Oh, if only I was here twenty years ago. We would've gotten along wonderfully."

Lupin's smile faded a bit. "Right, much older then you look. Albus told me in person the other night. Didn't believe it at fist, but after that dazzling display..."

Aramil casted the spell again, causing a few glowing motes of light to dance around his fingers. "For such an intriguing people, you're awfully narrow-minded."

Lupin frowned. "What, wizards?"

"No, humans. Did he not tell you that part?" One look at his face told him all he needed.

"Oh. Well, neither are you, if we want to get into the details. I'll see you in the morning."

He gave him another smile and walked off, bumping into Hagrid.

"Rubeus. Congratulations on the teaching post. You heading out?"

Rubeus turned around. "Oh, didn't see you thar Aramil. Thanks, didn't expect it myself.." He noticed he was speaking to three students, one of which was the brown-haired girl he had seen earlier, and the other which must've been Harry Potter.

The brown-haired girl he saw earlier darted around Rubeus's bulk, outstretching hand. "Hrmione Granger, third year pupil."

He took it, kissing her hand lightly. "Aramil. Sorcerer extraordinaire."The girl-Hermione-was too quick, too polite. She obviously wanted something. He straightened back up, his eyes sliding over to the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "And you must be Harry Potter."

"Uh, yeah, that's me." He stepped up, shaking Aramil's hand. He didn't look like much. Messy black hair, green eyes, too thin to wave around a sword. So, exactly like any hero should, never mind that a longsword and full-plate armor would drive them to the ground in three steps. But who played with encumbrance issues?

"Nice to meet you. Heard you killed a Basilisk a few months ago. What was that like?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Well, um, I almost died, so tough."

Behind him, the ginger stepped up. "I helped him with that. Well, I helped him get to it. I would've helped him fight it, but my wand blew up 'cos of our teacher last year, who wasn't even actually a real teacher, he made up all of his stuff..." He trailed off as he realized Aramil was idly examining his fingernails. Sometimes, rudeness was necessary.

"How lovely. Anyway, Harry it's only your first basilisk. It gets easier once you realize that if you avoid the eyes, you can kill them rather easily. I've killed about four myself. Would've been five, but then Amara-"

Hermione spoke up again. "Hold up. You're talking about killing _four_ basilisks."

"Yeah, four."

"Four basilisks. Are you sure you're not confusing them with a Southern Sea Serpent?"

Aramil frowned. "Big, scaly, petrifying gaze, hard to confuse."

The trio (and Hagrid) looked stunned. Hopefully this wasn't the dragon situation again, Aramil saw the odd look he got from Albus when they were talking about dragons. Apparently in this universe, Dragons were about as intelligent as a particularly clever shrew. And they also didn't breed with anything that had a pulse. This would be embarrassing if basilisks turned out to be, say, Colossal sized serpents with the death gaze of a Bodak.

"Well, it was nice meeting you three, but I have to go." Aramil realized he was still concentrating on the spell, so he changed it into a black cat that weaved between the trio's legs before running in the opposite direction. By the time they took their eyes off the cat, he was already out the doors.

* * *

Aramil stood in the cold autumn night, watching his breath cloud up. If only Sorcerers got breath weapons...

He went to check his watch, but remembered it was still broken. "I should really get that fixed."

Finally, after twenty rounds, a brightly-coloured butterfly fluttered out of the darkness and landed on Aramil's shoulder. "Heya."

Aramil started moving again. "Petronella. What took you so long?"

Petronella was flapping her wings angrily, judging by the empathetic link. "I was wondering what I did to deserve that horrible name. Seriously, Petronella? You couldn't have named me something cool like 'The Fallen One', or 'Demonheart'?"

"Those are terrible names."

"No, they'd be perfect."

"You're a _butterfly._ "

"Yeah, but a kick-ass butterfly. Couldn't be worse than a Leanan Sidhe named Aramil. That's an elf name." Petronella was being snippy again.

He snapped his fingers, opening the doors. "It roughly translates as 'shut up we're not having this conversation again'." He flopped down onto the bed. "Pick another topic."

Petronella landed on his nose. "Fine. Can you tell me that time when you and Amara were pirates on the Abyssal seas?"

"Sure, why not." He got up, causing Petronella to move to the bedpost."

"Well, it all started when we were in Sigil. We were looking to stock up on potions, before embarking on our next quest..."

* * *

 **And the Golden Trio arrives. Things are getting interesting...**


	10. Things are Going Well

_The elf maiden knocked back the last few drops of ale in her flagon, slamming it down onto the table. She called over the waitress, who refilled it in a flash. She quaffed down half of it, and the slightly concerned waitress filled it up again._

 _He raised an eyebrow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't alcohol slowly kill your liver?"_

 _She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Oh, stuff it up your-oh, you're not sarcastic. Yes, but life is short. Anyway, I need to be a lot more drunk to process this. You should be too. Try some elven ale." She slid the flagon over to him._

 _He hesitantly took a sip. "As bitter as your personality."_

 _"Fuck you." She put down a few coins and got up. "C'mon, let's get out of here."_

 _He followed her out of the bar. "So, what you're saying is that up until a few hours ago, you were asleep in the middle of a forest? And when you woke up, you were in those overly ornate clothes with no memory besides basic language skills and a rudimentary understanding of magic. Huh, and I thought that weekend in the Abyss was a-getting off track here. Well, that's not so bad."_

 _"Technically, this is the worst thing i can ever remember happening to me."_

 _She giggled, like how most other people in the bar were. "If you want to be that way, then meeting me is the best thing to ever happen to you."_

 _He glanced over to her. She wasn't that bad. Of course, he hadn't met many people, but her red hair was attractive. "Who knows? Maybe I hd something better happen to me than meeting you, before whatever all this is." She stumbled, causing him to grab her arm to prevent her from falling face-first in the mud._

 _"A human philosopher once told me, 'we are nothing more than the sum of our experiences.' So if that stuff does ring true, then you're nothing. In this crazy, fucked-up word of ours, you're a ghost. Less then a ghost, even-"_

 _He let go of her, causing her to fall face-first in the mud._

 _She glared at him through her veil of muddy hair. "Fuck you, you asshole!"_

 _"Hey, you were being rude." He picked her up and offered her the handkerchief she stuffed in his pocket. "I assume that's a side effect of intoxication?"_

 _She murmured a few words and the mud fell away. "I meant what I said. And if you didn't let go of me, I would've followed up with, 'and that's a good thing.'"_

 _He frowned, which was probably his first. "How is that a good thing? I'm nothing. Everyone else has families, and friends, and a life. I have...nothing."_

 _She made some gesture that was probably supposed to be philosophical and grand, but it made her look like she was falling over. Again. "Well yeah, that's the good thing. My mother's a wizard, my father's a wizard, everyone who's anyone I know is a wizard. When I was born, i got some tiny little pajamas with stars on them. When I was ten, my parents gave me a beginner's spellbook. I never got a choice, and my parents will probably disown me if i say I want to be a Bard."_

 _She sat down outside a church. "You, on the other hand, have no such pressure. You could be a king or a blackguard or a paladin or a necromancer or even a Bard, if that's your thing. You could be anything. You have no reputation to live up to, or family honour to maintain, or elven norms to adhere to. Endless possibilities. You are infinite."_

 _He sat down beside her, just as rain started to fall. "I should probably get a name first, shouldn't I?"_

 _"Right. How about...Aramil? It's the name of a boy I used to have a crush on."_

 _"Aramil." He liked the sound of the name. 'Aramil' turned to her. "I like the sound of the name, though it makes me realize I don't have the pleasure of knowing your name."_

 _"Oh, right. Amara. Lady Amara, of House Lightflower." Amara pulled out a bottle of wine and made two glasses appear from nowhere. "Well, a toast. Here's to...I don't know. Infinite possibilities or something poetic sounding."_

* * *

He opened his eyes, and he was back in his room at Hogwarts.

Aramil realized his nails were digging into his palms, and he let go. He looked at his hands and noticied the tiny red crescents etched into them, and sighed heavily, closing his eyes again. That was over a thousand years ago, and he rembered every drop of water in it. Sometimes he wish he could just forget it.

But who knows? Maybe that was how he woke up in that forest all those centuries go, fleeing from painful memories. Really, it'd be better if he didn't see it that often. But he couldn't.

Reverie, or 'The Waking Dreams', was somewhere between an elf's trancing and a human's slumber for fey. Slipping into a dream state, a fey could see past memories, conjured fantasy, or even the future, given enough experience. Aramil heard that some fey chose to spend their time entirely in reverie as they aged, instead of the real word. He could understand the temptation. No pain, no hurt, just happy (preserved) memories for all time.

Every time he woke, he could feel its pull, tempting him to slip away from the horrors of the world. After a thousand years of joy and heartbreak, he was starting to become disillusioned with it all. Why bother?

"Wow, you're definitely not a morning person." Aramil felt a surge of cheerfulness through his empathetic link with Petronella, tinged slightly with worry for him.

Aramil smiled. "And you're a butterfly who thinks it can take on the world."

"Cynical senior."

"Insolent youth. Ever heard of respecting your elders?" Aramil concentrated on preparing his spell slots.

Petronella fluttered over. "Well, I'm your familiar. Who else is going to regularly insult you and have snappy dialogue with you?"

"The raven I get to replace you?"

* * *

"Afternoon, Rubeus."

Rubeus looked up. "Aramil!" He finished tying up a Hippogriff and took a breather. "Where've you been all mornin'?" He slapped a bandage on his forearm, wincing slightly.

" _Sleep._ " The dark grey Hippogriff that was currently straining against its ropes fell promptly sleep. "He'll be good for eight minutes. And to answer your question, I had Remus's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes for the first two periods. First class was the seventh years. Most of the students stared at me a bit, but nothing spectacular happened. As for the second class, which was the sixth years...Half the class, myself included, was turned a particularly vibrant shade of pink."

Rubeus re-tightened the ropes on the dark grey. "Oh, learning about curses or somethin?"

"They were taking a quiz."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So I had to waste a use of my Change Shape ability, which I'm pretty sure is not how it works, but I'm not staring a gift Nightmare in the mouth. Anyway...where was I? Oh right. And then Remus gave them all some sort of potion, and gave the girl who dropped a faulty batch of invisible ink a detention. So at least that was something. And now I'm here with you, who decided 1,000 pound creatures with razor-sharp claws would be a good first lesson for the third-years."

Rubeus clapped him on the shoulder, which almost drove him to the ground. "Ah, don't worry so much. They're actually quite friendly."

Aramil extended a hand to scratch Buckbeak behind his ears. First time he had tried that, he nearly got mauled. Now Buckbeak almost seemed happy to see him. "Well you've been with them since birth, of course they like you. And the reason they like me so much is because I'm a Fey, which automatically means plot-irrelevant animals like me." Rubeus said nothing, everyone was getting used to his eccentricity. But something crossed his mind, and he looked over at Rubeus.

"Um...Rubeus?"

"Yea?" He was currently rethinking the rope idea, and had started to get out lengths of chains.

"How exactly did you get Albus to agree to this? After the Dementors, which are horrifying eldritch abominations that shouldn't exist, this seems like something that he would have nixed."

"Uhh..." Rubeus was fiddling with the chains, avoiding Aramil's eyes. "Well...it's not like he could cancel this last minute, right?"

Aramil realized that he didn't actually answer the question, but he decided not to push him. The less he knew about the legality of the situation, the better. And who cared, Rubeus and him would be there the whole time.

"I suppose. So what's on the agenda for today's lesson?" Rubeus finally finished tying up he last Hippogriff, and started walking back, motioning for Aramil to follow.

"Well, Hippogriffs will be fine fo' now, they'll have these books with 'em. The students, I mean. And then I bring the Hippogriffs 'round, they get to pet them and all, maybe a quick flight, and then I teach them, maybe feed them if they're hungry. The Hippogriffs, I mean." Rubeus noticed he had forgotten his crossbow. "Um, hold on a moment."

Aramil sighed. _Well, what could possibly go wrong?_

* * *

Quite a lot, now that Aramil thought about it.

Looking at the assembled students, he could tell that at last _one_ of them would end up angering a Hippogriff. Maybe that blonde Slytherin, he didn't seem like he respected Rubeus a great deal.

Aramil swatted at Fang's nose, who was slobbering all over Aramil's robes. He never did like dogs. They tended not to like him, for some reason. Or they liked him _too_ much.

 _"Sleep."_ The enormous hound dropped like a stone, and started snoring lik a...dog, he guessed. Did dogs snore?

Pushing his questions of canine sleep habits out of his mind, he turned to Rubeus, who seemed to have been terrified into silence.

"Hey, Rubeus. Rubeus!"

He jumped, which probably caused a minor earthquake in Hogsmeade. "Huh? Oh, right." He raised his voice. "C'mon, lets get a move on! Got a real treat for yeh today! Everyone here? Then let's go."

Rubeus's large size meant that Aramil was quickly left behind with his thoughts, and Petronella. "Hey Petronella, what do you thinkare the odds of this going horribly wrong?"

Total silence.

"Hey, I'm just-oh." There was a arg empty space where Petronella was. She must have left sometime between breakfast and him leaving the castle. Not that he was worried, of course. As long as she stayed away from that devil cat, she'd be fine. She was probably smarter then most of-

"-Hi, Hermione Granger." The bushy-haired girl from the previous night appeared at his side. "I was just wondering if you could tell me what's planned for today's lesson?"

"Yes, I remember you from the previous night. And no, it's a surprise."

Hermione didn't look fazed, and launched right into another question. "So, what'd you do before Hogwarts?"

 _Ah, there it is._ "That's kind of personal, don't you think?"

"Well, I just wanted to know where you learned to do magic. I've never seen anyone capable of conjuring lights like that, without a wand. Who taught you that?"

Aramil glanced at her. "I had a teacher for a bit, Iggwilv. One of the most powerful sorcerers I've ever seen. But she didn't really teach me much practical use, so I taught myself after we parted ways."

She looked confused. "I've memorized every powerful witch's name since Morgana, and I've never heard of anyone named Iggwilv. Where did you say she was from again?"

Oh, great. She was trying to find out who he was. He didn't know what she thought she was trying to find proof of,but she needed to be more subtle. And he needed to stop bragging. Even if she had no idea who that was, she'd just dig deeper, until she found out the truth. He looked human enough, and didn't turn into a beast every month, but Albus would probably have to fire him if parents found out their kids were being taught by something that didn't have a single drop of human blood in its veins.

"I think that's enough questions for now."

Hermione looked annoyed, but walked back to her pack of students.

Rubeus stopped at the paddock, and turned to Aramil.

"Right, you keep 'em there, while I wrangle up the hippogriffs. By the way, what were you and Hermione talkin' about?"

"Oh, she was just interrogating me about that little magic trick I pulled yesterday night." Hermione was with her friends, Harry and that red-haired boy, talking animatedly about something. "She seemed a bit overly interested me then, but I figured she had a crush on me."

"Hmph. That happen a lot?"

Aramil shrugged. "Eh. Fifty percent of the time its my vanity. Though my last boyfriend found that bravado attractive." He frowned. "Wait, that was Audric. Never mind."

"Well, the last new teacher was a fop who faked everything he did. And that one before that was evil. And they were the ones that figured 'em out. Guess they see themselves as the school detectives now. I'll talk to them later, tell em to back off. Be right back." And with that, he was off.

Aramil leaned against the fence. "Great. Three protagonists delving into the backstory of a mysterious stranger that just arrived, having found secrets that more qualified people overlooked in the past. I'll be out of here in a week."

* * *

"Iggiza? Never heard of her."

" _Iggwilv_ ," Hermionie corrected Ron, "And that's the point, I haven't either. And I've read _Great Witches of the Twentieth Century_ cover to cover. Her name wasn't even in a footnote."

Harry shrugged. "So? Remember when we couldn't find out who Flamel was? Maybe she's just really old."

"Nicholas Flamel was only so hard to find because he was almost six hundred years old, which he only was because he had the Philosopher's Stone. Whic as Dumbledore told you, was destroyed. So unless his mysterious master has one up her sleeve, there's something going on."

"Or he could've been lying, 'Mione."

"Doubt it, Ron. As soon as I asked about her, he clammed up. He was definitely telling the truth. I think we should look around his house."

Ron gasped in mock horror. "Hermione suggesting breaking and entering? Soon you'll want to run in the hallways and wont care if you get nine out of ten on a test."

"Oh, shut up. Are you gonna help me with this, or will I have to do this alone?"

* * *

 **This feels like a good stopping point. Hermionie's suspicious, we're progressing the plot, and you've learned a bit about Aramil's humble beginnings.**


	11. Intimidate or Diplomacy?

"And where have you been?"

Petronella floated down on the breeze, landing on his shoulder. "Enjoying the pleasure of your mother's company. Oh wait, you don't have one."

"Classy. Well, you haven't missed much." He turned his head back towards the Care of Magical Creatures class.

Rubeus had gotten his Hippogriffs in a row, figuratively, and the students were now learning how to approach them, emboldened by Harry's example. Speaking of which, he should get a Hippogriff mount. He wouldn't be able to fly at 100 feet a round for a long time.

That was when it happened, in the corner of his eye. When he was busy musing about Shapechanging forms, and Rubeus was on the other side of the paddock, he heard a scream rend the air.

A Slytherin student was on the ground, blood scattered on his robes, with Buckbeak looming over him, ready to deliver another strike.

Marvelous. First day on the job, and then something like that happened. Oh well. " _Sleep._ "

The Hippogriff collapsed on the ground as Rubeus rushed over to check on him.

"I'm dying!" The boy yelled. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me."

Petronella sighed (wait, could butterflies sigh? He needed to stop wondering about the vocalization limits of animals). "Wow, drama queen much? That couldn't have been more then ten damage, I've known rabbits that could take more damage then that."

Armil frowned. "Wait, you existed before you were my familiar?"

"That may be the most narcissistic thing you've ever said."

"Alright, got me there."

Rubeus was still struggling with Buckbeak, who seemed to be a match for him Strength-wise. "Aramil! Get Draco up to the castle!"

 _Oh yeah, I should do that._ He ran on over, helping up Draco by his uninjured arm.

"Hey, I cant walk like this!"

"It injured your arm, not your leg. So yes, you can. Let's go." They set off at a half-run, half-walk to the castle.

* * *

"How did this happen?"

Albus, Snape, and Aramil were all in the hospital wing, watching Madam Pomfrey spread a pale green poultice on Draco's arm. Snape, who Aramil thought to be utterly incapable of anything other than loathing, looked furious.

"Obviously that _buffoon_ ," He spat with venom like a Swindlespitter, "is utterly incompetent for this job. He should be-"

The headmaster raised his hand, cutting him off. Though it could have actually been a Tongue-Tying curse. He needed to learn Wandless Magic. Less equipment, less stuff that could be stolen from him in the case of imprisonment.

"Enough, Severus. I was speaking to Aramil. Aramil?"

Aramil shrugged. "To be honest,, I know just as much as you guys. Everything's fine one moment, and then he's on the ground, with Buckbeak looming ove him. So i cast a Sleep spell, get Draco up here, and now I'm here talking to you."

Albus sighed. "Very well. Thank you for your time, you may go."

He nodded at Albus, ignored Snape, and walked out of the hospital wing.

Since he didn't have any other classes to supervise today, Aramil decided to head back to his house. "Maybe sit down,flip through my journals, some fine wine...a little 'Me Time'."

He stopped by a blank section of wall, pressing on the slightly off-colour brick for a shortcut. "Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and wont run into any more disasters. That would be nice..."

* * *

"C'mon, he'll be back any moment. Let's go, before someone sees us."

Ron stepped inside the tree, letting out a low whistle when he saw the ceiling. Or rather, lack of. Hermionie was still in the doorway, paralyzed with indecision.

"What am I doing, oh we shouldn't be doing this...We could get in so much trouble."

"Hey, you were the one that came up with this plan. Now get in before someone sees us." Harry pushed her in, closing the door behind them. "So what are we looking for here, anyway?"

Hermionie seemed to recover, moving over to a wardrobe and quickly rifling through it. "I don't knw. Books th\at would belong in the Restricted Section, curses, anything out of the orddinary. Hmm...nothing but a good sense of fashion."

Ron mumbled something under his breath that ryhmed with 'Mocknart'.

"Think I found something." Harry pried up a panel on the bed frame and fished around in there, waving off the butterfly that was hovering around. Closing his fingers around a long, thin object, he pulled it out to reveal a wand. "Oh, it's just a wand. Never mind."

"What?" Ron walked over. "Huh, that's weird. Why would he hid his wand? And why would he not take it with him?"

"Well, maybe he has a backup? And wands seem like the kind of thing you'd keep locked up."

"Yeah, locked up. Not hidden in the bed frame. It's like he doesn't want anyone to know he has it."

Hermionie walked over, a book in her hand. "Well the only people who can't hold a wand, as per clause three of the Code of Wand Use-shut up Ron- are non humans. So if he's taking precautions to hide his wand..."

Ron laughed. "You're joking, right? There's no way that's possible."

The bushy-haired witch did not laugh. "And we thought Quirrel couldn't have You Know Who's head sticking out of the back of his head, or that a giant serpent coud be Petrifying people in the castle. I never understood that about you Ron, you live in a world where you have a _ghoul_ mucking around in your attic, and you're one of the most cynical people-"

He threw up his hands in protest. "Alright, alright. Made your point."

"Thank you. Now the next step would be to determine what kind of non-human he would be."

Harry sat down on the bed. "Well, we know he's not a centaur, goblin, or a mermaid. Maybe he's a werewolf?"

Hermione laughed. "Okay, even for me that's a bit far fetched. There's no way Dumbledore wouldn't figure out." She opened the book, flipping trough the pages. "Maybe there's something in here..."

While she was engrossed in the book, Harry turned to Ron. "Alright. So what else is there? Maybe he's a vampire?"

"He's been out in the sun. No dice." Hermione shot down the idea without even looking up. "Wait, actually, I might have something." She jumped onto the bed beside them.

"From what I could tell, it's his journal. Most of it is in some language I can't recognize- think it might be in Mermish-but there's some part that are in English. Like this." She cleared her throat.

" _So Eldran's divination was useless. The old dragon was long dead by the time I got to him. Not sure what to do now. I wasted ninety years of my life tracking down a skeleton on a whisper. Granted I'm immortal, but that doesn't maen my time's useless. Maybe I'll track down Amara. I heard rumors of a fiery elven pirate operating out of the Southern Oceans...it'll be good to see her again."_

Ron was the first to break the silence. "Wait, he's immortal? What the bloody hell is he?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could say nything, Harry grabbed the two of them and jerked them over to beside the door.

"Harry, what are you-"

"Shh!"

A moment later, the door opened.

* * *

Aramil walked in, frwoning as he looked around the room. Did he lock the dooor when he left? No, he didn't do that anymore. He was on a wizarding campus where every student essentially had an Eternal Wand of Opening. Locking the door would just be taking precious seconds out of his day. He crossed ovr to his little 'lounge' area, sitting down in his chair.

He snapped his fingers. "Clinky!"

There was a loud _crack_ as the female house elf appeared. Bowing so low that her nose touched the floor (she was short even for a house elf), she then looked up at him with a smile. "Does Master Aramil require anything?"

He held up a hand. "One moment." He walked over to the door, taking a quick peak outside. Nothing.

Aramil walked backed inside, easing himself back into his chair once more. "Apologies. Thought I heard something. Where was I...right. Bring me some of that Muggle wine I put in storage. After the day I've had, I think I could just drink the whole bottle."

Clinky bowed again. "One moment, Master Aramil." She vanished with another loud _crack_ , reappearing a moment later with a full wineglass and a bottle on the table next to him. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you Clinky." She bowed deeply again, vanishing back to the kitchens.

He liked being called 'Master'. Hadn't heard that since he was a member of the Eastern Emperor's court. Of course he was stealing someone's face at the time, but still...it'd be nice to be a member of nobility again. He took a sip of the wine- exquisite- and flipped open to a random page in his journal.

Something still didn't feel right in the room. What was it...oh.

Aramil put down his book for a moment. "Petronella, could you be a dear and fetch Albus and Minerva?"

"But-"

"Just do it."

As much as she tried to fake it, he could feel no feelings of frustration coming through their link. "Thank you."

Next, he moved over to the 'kitchen', if you could call it that. It was just some cabinets and a wood-powered stove, a little house-warming gift from Albus, as he put it. The tea leaves were from the Divination teacher. Trenny? Twanly? Something like that. Pouring in some water, he placed the kettle on top and lit the stove. While that was happening, he got out five teacups.

"Well the water will take a while, so in the meantime... _Glitterdust_."

* * *

"Unbelievable."

"I think there's still some in my eye-"

"Shut up, Ron-"

"Look, Professor, we-"

" _Quiet._ There is absolutely no excuse for this. Breaking into a teacher's house? You're lucky if you don't get _arrested_."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione, silent and abashed were sitting in three uncomfortable chairs McGonagall had conjured up. Harry wondered if she had made them uncomfortable on purpose. Probably.

Dumbledore was sitting across from them. He had said very little since he was summoned by Aramil, instead just examining them over those half-moon spectacles. Somehow, that made him feel worse than McGonagall's tirade.

"How on earth did you think this could result in any other outcome? I should've expected this. You started out by finding out about Quirrel, and then you moved onto that terrible business with the Basilisk. You seem to think of yourselves as this school's trio of detectives. After today, I will be shocked if you still have a place still left at Hogwarts."

The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken up the arrival of Aramil and a large tea tray. He placed it down on the table, passing a cup to each person. Dumbledore smiled and thanked him, before returning to his stony mood.

Aramil sat down in his chair, picking up his previous glass. He didn't say anything. Just stared off into space while finishing his drink.

Ron was the first to crack. "How did you know we were there?" He immediately shrank back under their teacher's glare.

Aramil didn't seem mad, strangely enough. As a matter of fact he almost looked bored with the whole situation, which was a jarring difference from McGonagall's outrage and Dumbledore's quiet disappointment.

He put down the glass. "You may have been using a cloak that wizards twice your experience would kill for, but I find it funny how many wizards I've met that could be defeated with a little bit of simple logic. In this case, your feet betrayed you."

Their feet? Harry looked down...oh. Of course, the grass. It must've been odd to see three pairs of footprints coming from nowhere. The image of it in his head almost made Harry laughed, if they weren;'t one word out of line from being expelled.

"Plus", Aramil continued, "Petronella was here when you three entered, without using the cloak. She filled me in on the particulars while I was getting the tea." The butterfly on his hand made several strange sounds, with Aramil replying back in similar sounds of his own. "She's my familiar, though she'd prefer the term 'associate'." Harry had hundreds of questions about talking butterflies, but it was probably better to stay quiet,something he learned from dealing with his old Muggle teachers.

"So, back to the interrogation, I guess. What idiotic thought crossed through your _equally_ idiotic heads to make you think 'Hey guys, let's go get expelled on the first day by breaking into private property'? From what I've heard around this school, you three have quite the reputation. Last year you stopped a old memory of Voldemort or whatever from controlling a basilisk and using it to kill off the whole school while exposing a teacher as a fraud, and the year before that you found out that another teacher was secretly Voldenort in disguise or something."

"And then it gets to your head, and you decide to break into someone's house after not having known them for twenty-four hours. A marvelous decision. Oh well. I hear there's some sub-par schools in Whales that might take you three in, though I doubt it."

Harry's heart sank. They were done. No forgiveness after this. Just six more years with the Dursleys. Beside him, Hermione looked like she was about to cry. Ron looked shattered.

It was just then that the butterfly, Petronella, began to speak up again in its odd language.

Whatever it said, Aramil seemed to disagree with it. "You're joking, right? I haven't even let Amara see all of that, and she was-"

More noises. "Yes, but that was different. Are you really-"

Still, the butterfly persisted. "Hmm...fair point. Still, massively-"

Even more. "...Alright, maybe not. Okay, I promise."

They were already going to get expelled, so Harry saw no harm in questioning him about what Petronella had said.

Aramil looked somewhat mollified by his companion. "Well, she may have used somewhat crass language to do it, but she was essentially calling me a massive hypocrite for wanting you three expelled. Io knows I've done worse."

He sighed, looking at Dumbledore. "I think I've been...somewhat unreasonable in my response. It's my opinion that they should not be expelled."

Harry's heart was starting to get a bit tired from the sinking and rising. Dumbledore merely nodded, betraying nothing. McGonagall was a bit more vocal.

"Aramil, while you're the 'victim' here, it seems a bit detrimental to let them off without punishment. Actions have consequences, after all."

He nodded. 'Right you are. But we'll leave that for later. Better to satisfy their curiosity now then lead to more incidents like this in the future."

Aramil sat up straight, placing his hands in his lap. "So, ask away, anything you like. Only three questions, though. It's more fun that way."

Hermione of course, was the first one to speak up. "What are you? You're obviously not a human, if your journal's true. And you're not a vampire, as you eat food and walk around in sunlight."

"Oh, off to a good start. Have you ever heard of the Fey?"

"You cant just answer a question with a question."

He shrugged. "I could, but I'll stick within the spirit of the game. Anyway, to answer your question, I'm a Lenean Sidhe."

"What's that?"

Aramil looked over at Harry. "A type of shapeshifting fey. We're like...the muses of the faerie world. We inspire mortals to create poerty and great works of art. Could be worse."

Ron leaned forward. "Is that how you've lived so long, because you're a fairy?"

He seemed somewhat displeased at that. "I prefer the term Leanan Sidhe, or Fey, but yes. I'm functionally immortal, assuming I don't eat something that disagrees with me or decide to give a hug to a wight."

Hermione seemed deep in thought. Finally, she spoke up again.

"Okay, so for our final-"

Aramil held up a hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. You've already used up all your questions."

"What? No we haven't!"

"You asked me what I was, Harry asked me about my answer, and Ronald asked me if that was how I managed to live so long." The teaching assistant counted off the questions on his fingers. Unless I've lost the ability to count somewhere in the last millennia-oops-, that adds up to three. So I think we're done here, you're free to leave."

McGonagall who had mostly been silent, spoke up again. "I believe there's still the issue of their punishment?"

Harry almost swore. They almost got away scot-free.

"Right, thank you Minervra. Let's see..." Aramil stroked an imaginary beard for a few moments, before coming up with something. "Got it. Since you three seemed so eager to see all this" he said while gesturing in his general area, "Why don't I get you three to sweep for a few weeks. Or months."

Ron looked confused. "But it's grass. We're basically sweeping up dirt here."

An eyebrow went up. "And?"

Nobody decided to answer that question.

"Tell you what, I see no reason for all three of you to get punished. So if you can all come to an agreement on who's most responsible for this, the other two will have a somewhat lesser detention."

Obviously, Harry and Ron stayed silent. But their eyes both flickered to Hermione for a fraction of a second, and Aramil seemed to notice that.

"Of course. Hermione, stay here for a moment. Ron and Harry, seeing as how McGonagall is your Head of House, she'll deal with you two. Albus, and Minerva, that'll be all." Albus stood up, leaving with a small nod and without a word. McGonagall shepherded the two boys out of the room, whispering something to Albus that he didn't quite catch.

Then, it was just him and Hermione.

* * *

"Ron and Harry seem nice. Did you know them before Hogwarts?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. She obviously wasn't expecting that. Still, she answered.

"Uh, no. Harry lived with his aunt and uncle, who are Muggles like my parents, and Ron's from a wizarding family. And Harry lives in Surrey, so we've never really met before."

Aramil nodded. "Interesting. You've seem to have struck up a strong friendship with them in two years."

Hermione fiddled with the handle of her tea cup. "Uh, yeah, I suppose. Um...what about you?"

"Me? Let's see..." Aramil started to gather the abandoned cups of tea onto the tray. "Not many. I have an attitude that tends to rub people the wrong way. There's Amara of course. Probably the closest person there is to me. But we haven't talked to each other in a while. I guess we're going through a rough patch in our friendship." Aramil left the tray on the counter, picking up the book beside it. He sat back down, showing it to Hermione.

"This, is another one of my journals. I have five of them. Over a thousand years, I've missed about a year's worth of journal entries. I find it relaxing."

"However," He continued, "You can imagine that a thousand years f wear and tear isn't kind to paper. So, I have to replace them once or twice a century. It's a tedious process, as you can imagine."

"And that's where you come in. I've recently acquired some new journals. Once a week, starting next week, you can come down here and help me transcribe them. In English, of course. Understand?"

It took a moment for Hermione to connect the dots. "Oh. Yes, I understand."There was a hint of a relived smile o n her face.

"Excellent. Monday next week, seven sharp. Don't be late. You can go now." The bushy-haired student practically skipped out the door.

Petronella moved her wings in a sign of approval. "That was unexpected of you."

"Really? I thought it was rather generous."

"Yeah, exactly."

* * *

 **Merry Boxing Day, everyone.**


End file.
